#partially sharing this all just to vent and partially to remind you all to stay vigilant!

[teenagefeeling]

🙃🙃🙃

[speuradair]

Aizawa Shota Taking Care Of His Depressed S/O

Request: "Hey there! I was wondering if it would be okay if I requested Aizawa taking care of a depressed reader? Like she is so depressed she doesn't even feel like getting out of bed, and he just kind of pampers her by like brushing her hair for her, running her a bath, and just generally taking care of her and not judging her in the slightest?"

Shota is no stranger to depression

Or mental illness in general, for that matter

While he's now able to manage it pretty well, he has quite a bit of first-hand experience dealing with depression

So when he sees that you're struggling with your own depression, he's ready to support you without an ounce of judgement

He approaches it on a day by day basis

It depends on how bad you're feeling, as well as how long it's been since you've done important things like showered, eaten a full meal, had some water, etc

If you're feeling particularly terrible, he isn't going to push you

Just getting up takes all of your energy sometimes, and he isn't going to make you do anything that would make you feel worse

On the days where you need to stay in bed, he focuses on being there for you and making sure you're at least eating something small and still getting up to go to the bathroom when you need to

Other than that, he's more than happy to just stay in bed with you and watch something, listen to music, cuddle, or just sleep

On the days where he has to get you out of bed, he has to take a more direct approach

Though, Shota wouldn't mention your depression unless you brought it up first

As far as he's concerned, it doesn't matter if you name these feelings you're having or not

Diagnosing it or calling you out on it doesn't change how it feels, so he doesn't see a point in doing so

Unless you mention it and want to vent, he takes care of you without explaining why he's doing so

(besides, depression or not, he wants to take care of you, you know? He doesn't need a reason to do so)

Without saying a word he comes to sit on your side of the bed

Moving slowly as to not startle you, his hand smooths out your hair

Partially to wake you up in case you're still asleep, but mostly to comfort you

He'll stay like that for a few moments, just quietly being there for you and giving you a chance to say something if you feel so inclined

When you don't, he'll finally break the silence

"Hey," his voice is low and gentle, and you can vaguely feel the vibration of his words as you lean into him, "How does a bath sound?"

Sometimes you nod and comply, sometimes you protest and curl into yourself a bit more

If you need some more coaxing, he'll continue to smooth your hair out for a few moments before trying again

"Come on, I'll help you. Doesn't warm water and a scalp massage sound good?"

He scratches gently at your scalp as he speaks, teasing you a bit

"We'll clean you up, get you in some fresh clothes, and then you can lay back down again."

Between his voice, his touch, and his persuasion, it eventually becomes hard to resist

He then picks you up, holding you close to his chest and bringing you into the bathroom where he'll sit you on the edge of the tub

Once the bath is ready, Shota silently helps you out of your old clothes and holds onto you steadily as you settle into the warm water

He lets you sit there for as long as you'd like, staying by your side and sitting on the floor next to the tub

It doesn't matter if you want to sit there for ten minutes or ten hours

He's staying right there by your side

Eventually, when you're ready, he takes the shampoo and begins to wash your hair for you, making sure to be careful

He'll rinse your hair for you, then helping you wash up

When you're ready to get out, he's ready with the softest towel you two have

He helps you step out of the tub and wraps it around you, then leaves the room for a few seconds before returning with a fresh set of clothes

Your pajama pants, underwear, and one of his shirts

When he places them on the counter in front of you, you recognize the scent of laundry detergent on them

He must've just taken them out of the dryer

That suspicion is confirmed when he helps you get dressed and you can feel the warmth radiating off of them

Shota leads you back into your shared room, letting you sit back down on the bed

Depending on how you do your hair after you wash it, he does his best to do it for you

If you prefer to dry it, he'll blow dry your hair for you

If you prefer to pull it up, he can absolutely comb your hair out and pull it up too

He's surprisingly great at braiding and styling hair

Once you're ready to lay back down, he'll switch his attention to getting something for you to eat

He asks you what you feel like eating, and will agree to pretty much whatever you say

You want take out? He'll order

You want drive through? He'll take you

You want him to cook? He's on it

Just say the word, and he'll get you whatever you'd like

Normally Shota is pretty adamant on reminding you that you should be eating well to take care of yourself, but when you're really struggling, he isn't concerned about the nutritional value of your food

If you happen to pick something healthy, that's great, but he's more worried about making sure you've eaten something

Finally, once you've eaten something and had something to drink, Shota climbs in bed with you again

It's up to you to decide what you feel like doing after that, but whatever you pick, he's going to be laying right beside you, keeping you close

Eventually he'll pull you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and telling you how unbelievably proud he is of you for taking care of yourself today

You got out of bed today, and he knows how hard that can be

He reminds you how strong and brave you are, and how loved you are, both by him and by those around you

No matter how many bad days you have, Shota will always be right there to help you through

He recognizes the strength you have for pushing through, and he wants to make sure you recognize it, too

Helping you is never a bother to him

He's so in love with you, you could never be any sort of a burden on him

And he knows you love him just as unconditionally

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Sixteen: The Seventh Book

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 2,803

TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE!!!!! BEWARE!!!!

A/N: thank you everyone for reading this fic i love you all. one chapter left to go. i am so sorry for what follows.

MASTERLIST

~

Your eyelids were so heavy it was almost impossible to open them. The chair you were in was cold and hard against your back, the discomfort prompting you to wake up a little faster.

Then your surroundings forced the memory of what had happened into your mind.

It was a dark metal room with a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Across the room on the wall were several closed metal hatches. Although you couldn’t make out much more. After all, your eyes were still partially closed and the dim light of the room made it even harder to see.

A small gasp next to you alerted the presence of someone else in the room.

Turning your head — with immense effort — you saw Spencer Reid slouched in the chair next to you, hands tied behind his back, slowly coming to.

“Spencer,” you said, voice quiet and strained. But he seemed to have heard judging by the way his eyes snapped wide open and he began to writhe in the chair.

Grunting harshly, he finally got his arms untied, jumping up and running toward the back of your chair and pulling off the rope, leaving your wrist burning slightly from the scratch.

Quickly analyzing the situation, Spencer firmly pressed against each of the four metal walls, ensuring that there was no way out. Then, when he was sure none of the walls would give, he started ramming his elbow against the metal slots in one of the walls.

“Spencer!” you had found your voice suddenly at the thought of him hurting himself. Strangely, you had just noticed that the two of you were only wearing your underwear. Even your bra had been put back on. Although he was wearing a watch you’d never seen before with a tight leather band that squeezed his wrist.

His gaze snapped to you, a determined look in his eye with a fire behind it that sent a spark through you.

“Where are we?”

It was a stupid question and you knew the answer, but you still had to ask. Spencer attempted to soften his expression but to no avail.

“I’m sorry.”

The words hurt on a whole new level. There was so much meaning behind them. They confirmed the fact that you had indeed been kidnapped and taken to some sort of torture chamber, they signified that he had failed to protect you, and they broke the pact you had to never apologize to one another.

There was a crackle and heavy breathing filled the room, the sound coming from a minuscule vent in one of the corners of the room.

Spencer stepped between you and the vent, reaching out a hand behind him to make sure you stayed behind him.

The breathing hesitated and after a moment, someone spoke.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The voice was so familiar. You knew you knew it but you didn’t know from where. The memory was just out of reach and it kept slipping through your fingers.

Spencer, however, had frozen, presumably recognizing the voice. Your hand moved to his shoulder of its own accord, finding the skin there to be freezing cold.

The voice from the vent chuckled.

“I understand that you and Spencer have become quite attached lately.”

You looked at him, unsure whether to respond or not. He glanced at you over his shoulder and nodded stiffly.

“Ye—ahem—yes, we have. Why?” To recognize the voice, you needed to keep him talking.

“Hmm. Let’s see how far you’re willing to go for each other.”

There was a whooshing noise and one of the four slots in the wall shot open, revealing a small hidden space.

“I’m sure if you can’t figure out what to do, Doctor Spencer Reid can help you.”

And then it clicked. And it all made sense. 

How he’d found your address, “Whoever accesses your card, even for something as small as a stick of gum, has the opportunity to use that information to find your name, your address, your workplace—” “Ok. I get it. People I see frequently and my credit card info. Gotta warn you, there’s not much I buy with it other than books and coffee.”

How he’d known which hotel you were at, “Whatever. Gives me more time to prepare for a cute date with a hot barista. Or . . . the other way around.”

Even how he knew you were at the cabin, “I actually had a coworker who had a cabin in the woods and he never mentioned becoming one with nature.”

All because “ . . . the waiter here, Tom, works at my regular coffee shop. Barista by day, waiter by night.”

“Tom. . . .”

Spencer looked at you sorrowfully as the voice chuckled through the vent.

“Very good . . . Honestly, I’m disappointed it took you this long to figure it out. I mean, it was pretty obvious. And so easy to get so much information about you! But! But, that's beside the point. You have a task I expect you to begin. After all, time is running out.”

Spencer reached into the hole in the wall, withdrawing a stopwatch, an electric hair clipper, and a small Exacto knife.

The stopwatch had two minutes and thirteen seconds on it, counting down slowly.

“What are we supposed to do?” you yelled at the wall, holding up the timer as if he could see it. You don’t know, there might be a camera, you thought to yourself, wrapping an arm around your bare stomach.

There wasn’t a response though, just the sound of the stopwatch clicking quietly.

“Y/N . . .” Spencer spoke from behind you. “It’s the seventh book.”

Frantically trying to remember the order of the books in your nightstand, you realized what the clippers and knife meant.

The Handmaid’s Tale, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Telltale Heart, The Great Gatsby, 1984, A Clockwork Orange, and . . .

The seventh book was a very old and very rare edition of The Gift of The Magi.

“So we have to choose . . .”

The watchband on Spencer’s wrist was too tight to slip the knife through without cutting through his skin. And your hair would take much longer than two minutes to cut with a knife and clippers.

Without a word, Spencer took the exact-o knife and plunged it into the skin around his wrist, wincing in pain as he cut through the band.

“Spencer, no!”

But the watch fell from his hand to the floor, dripping with blood, Spencer’s wrist sliced open neatly. The wound was superficial but it looked like it hurt. He collapsed to the floor, dropping the knife and you rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded weakly, putting pressure on the cut.

“Very interesting . . .” Tom’s voice echoed around the room and you felt your stomach fill with rage like never before, spinning around and throwing the clippers at the wall with all of your might.

“We’re not going to play your fucking mind game!”

“Y/N,” Spencer whispered from the floor. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

The answer to your question came in the form of an ear-splitting siren, the noise resonating around the room, forcing its way past your eardrums, giving you an abominable headache.

The noise suddenly stopped and Tom spoke again.

“It is your choice whether you play or not. But consider that a preview of the punishment for refusing to. And trust me, there’s worse punishments than that.”

The second hatch slid open.

Head darting between it and Spencer on the floor, holding his wrist, you opted to fetch the next items.

There was another stopwatch, this time with five minutes, two small slips of paper, and some kind of device transmitting footage of two people in a poorly lit room, strapped to chairs similar to how you had been moments ago.

“What the fuck is this?”

The light in the room came on, showing the people in the chairs to be a man and a woman. You didn’t recognize either of them, and, judging by his face, neither did Spencer.

“Oh no.”

You read the slips of paper.

Man and Woman, they said.

We have to choose one.

“We have to choose one.”

Spencer looked at you shaking his head, so overwhelmed by the fact that the two of you were in this situation.

You scrambled, unable to deal with the thought, “What if we—“

“—I’m sure the punishment will be worse if we don't choose one. Most likely, he’ll kill both of them. Statistically, men die younger than women and they can’t bear children. But women have a higher pain tolerance and—“

He was talking himself in circles, trying desperately to come up with a solution to an impossible problem.

“Spencer, this is something you can’t reason. We just have to pick one.”

You couldn’t believe he was only twenty-six. His eyes bore the weight of someone much older.

You forced a weak laugh that tasted terrible on your tongue, “Eenie Meenie Miney-Moe?”

He chuckled weakly. “No luck, I know you land on whichever one you didn’t start with.”

“Me too.”

“Time’s running out,” Tom reminded you.

Your face fell, all hints of a smile gone.

“The man.” You gaped at Spencer who had piped up just enough to make the decision.

There was a pause, then a dark figure walked into the room onscreen, brandishing a gun and aiming at the back of the man’s head.

The muffled sound of a gunshot rang out, making you and Spencer jump as the man went limp in the chair and the feed cut out.

Bile rose in your throat and you ran to a corner of the room to throw up.

“Very interesting,” Tom repeated, his voice sparking disgust deep in your stomach.

“Why are you doing this?” you begged, reaching out for Spencer who seemed to be doing a bit better judging by the fact he could now stand and his wrist was no longer gushing blood.

“I like watching the way you think.”

The now-familiar sound of the hatch opening brought you back to the situation at hand, trying desperately to get the image from the screen out of your mind.

Spencer reached into the hatch and pulled out two more slips of paper and another stopwatch.

The screen flicked back on, showing two more people in a dark room, another man and woman. The room was still dark so you couldn't make out much more.

You looked up at Spencer, confused, but his face had gone white as a sheet and he was staring at the pieces of paper.

“No.” Spencer ran to the vent, slamming on the wall. “No! Ahh!” shouting in pain when his wound made contact.

Tom didn’t say anything so you approached Spencer, snatching the pieces of paper to better understand why he was so angry.

The room on the screen lit up the moment you read the papers. This time it didn’t say man or woman. This time there were two names.

Steve and J.J.

Spencer’s blonde coworker and your closest friend were slumped over in the chairs on-screen, wriggling against their restraints. All breath left your body, your heart stopped in your chest.

“TOM! Please don’t do this.”

The desperation seeped into your voice pitifully. 

“Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Y/N,” Spencer stepped between you and the vent again, holding your shoulders. You suddenly felt how wet your eyes were. Strange how you hadn’t even realized you were crying.

“I . . . I can’t.”

Being forced to decide who lives and who dies was difficult enough to break anyone’s spirit. But this . . . this shattered yours to the core.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer said, “I can do it.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tom chided playfully, voice muffled through the speaker. “You’ve already chosen twice, Doctor. I think it’s Y/N’s turn, don’t you?”

“Look, I can make the decision. You don’t want to put her through too much, do you?” Spencer’s voice was soft, but the way he was gripping your hand suggested he felt otherwise. “You wouldn’t do that to her.”

“I suppose you’re right. Though, while I do care for her, it is her turn. But don’t fret! You can make the next decision together.”

Your eyes were locked on the screen, watching as Steve and J.J. came to, becoming rapidly aware of their situation and struggling against the bindings. Spencer gently squeezed your hand, showing you the time on the stopwatch. Fifty seconds left.

There was no right decision.

J.J. had a child, a husband, a family. Steve had no one. Steve had you. 

There was no right decision. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a wrong one.

“Steve.” You hadn’t said it out loud, just mouthed the word letting the breath flow out of you.

Then, realizing he couldn’t hear you, you repeated yourself.

“Steve.” It was barely a whisper but it was the loudest sound in the world.

Actually, strike that, the loudest sounds were the footsteps entering the room and standing behind your friend, holding a gun to his head.

Tom’s voice came back over the intercom.

“I need you to say it.”

It took every ounce of strength not to fall to the ground and burst into tears. The only thing keeping you upright was fear. Pure terror. You couldn’t say it, but if you didn’t they’d both die.

“Kill Steve.”

You closed your eyes before the gunshot went off, knees giving out and collapsing to the ground, feeling Spencer fall with you, trying to keep you as upright as possible.

“Hey,” he grabbed your head, forcing your gaze to him, his dark brown eyes dark with rage. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Tom’s voice made your stomach contort.

The fourth and final hatch slid open.

“I can’t . . . I can’t . . .” your hands were trembling harder than your voice as you shook back and forth, clutching your legs to your chest.

“Okay, it’s okay. It’s almost over,” Spencer said, standing and reaching into the last slot. 

He didn’t move for a while, back turned to you, looking down at something.

“Spencer?”

“Me, I choose me,” he said, turning towards the vent, revealing the item he was holding. A gun. His gun.

“No!”

“Very well,” Tom said, chuckling. “But that’s not quite how this works. One of you has to die, but the other has to do it.”

Spencer ran and sat next to you on the floor, forcing the gun into your hands, lightly placing your finger on the trigger.

“Spencer . . .”

“Listen to me, it’s okay. Okay? If we don’t do this, he’s gonna kill us both. I need you to understand that I am okay with this. I am choosing this, not you. This is for me to decide.”

He slowly brought the gun up to his head, resting just between his eyebrows.

That was too much and the sobs that had been building up in your chest escaped your lips, tears pouring down your cheeks and falling onto your legs. Your hands trembled harder, the gun shaking against his head.

“Y/N,” he smiled, eyes bright and twinkling. “It’s okay.” Then, he swallowed, looked away for a moment, then looked back at you with fire burning deep behind his eyes. What he said next changed your life.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You sobbed as he cocked the gun and steadied your finger on the trigger.

“I love you, Spencer.”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. You didn’t even have to think before you did what you did next.

You removed the gun from his head, held it against your own, right on your temple, and stood, turning toward the vent.

“5 . . .”

“Wait!” Tom called out.

“4 . . .”

“Y/N, stop!” Spencer shouted at you.

“3 . . .”

“That’s not how this works!” Tom yelled furiously, voice cracking. “Stop! You have to shoot him!”

“2 . . .”

The wall under the vent slid open and a dark figure stumbled in, holding out a blunt object, approaching you threateningly, rearing back.

The instant you saw the whites of Tom’s eyes, you aimed the gun directly between his eyes and squeezed the trigger, attempting to keep your arm as still as possible. In a flash, you were brought back to the alley where you shot a gun for the first time. All you could think of were your and Spencer’s lips meeting for the first time.

You didn’t realize you’d closed your eyes until you opened them and was met with the image of Tom The Barista with a bloody hole in his head, falling backwards to the floor, crumpling like a rag doll, a blank expression on his face.

Taking one last look at Spencer to make sure he was okay, you felt your legs give out beneath you and you fell to the floor, losing consciousness. 

Again, everything went dark.

~

last chapter tomorrow. i am so sorry. bring tissues.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams​ @mjloveskids666​ @dolanfivsosxox​ @criesinreid​ @fanficsrmylife @racerparker​ @sammypotato67​ @lukeskisses​ @reidcrimes​ @you-had-me-at-hello-dear​ @l0ve-0f-my-life​ @thatsonezesty13​​ @yourmisosoup​ @queenofthebees003​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @eu-solidao @perverted-guardian-angel​ @boiled-onionrings​ @rainsong01​ @lesbian-emilyprentiss​ @andiebeaword​ @itsmoony​ @cielo1984​ @baby-i-am-fireproof​ @mendesminimuffin​ @fukyouthink​ @addie5264 @gretaamyk​ @sercyan​ @expressiodeppresio @matthewreid​

[hollowfaces]

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

enjoys simple things like holding you while you guys talk or venting about his day. if you’re interested however he really enjoys teaching you about all his medical knowledge and seeing how you do. sometimes give you random pop quizzes on which medical equipment do what to keep you on your toes

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

since he can’t exactly see you, he really admires your hands. loves when you cup his face or tightly squeeze his hand. also really enjoys softly rubbing your hands with his own and just basking in the moment

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

jack is very comforting person for several reasons. he has both a very calming voice and a very calming aura. whenever you’re feeling down he’ll try the most logical way to help you feel better, but if you just want some cuddles or some space he’ll be happy to oblige

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

his future with you is honestly just keeping things the way they are. he doesn’t want kids and doesn’t do well with actual pets so just keeping your guys’ loving relationship is what he wants

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

he’s rather dominant in regards to your safety and his possessiveness but passive in most regards of your actual relationship. jacks very whipped when it comes to you and you find yourself getting away with a lot of stuff no one else would be able to get away with

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

one of the worst people to fight with since he isn’t the type to really yell or display any body language. when you guys fight he remains rather calm which makes you feel like he doesn’t care that much about whatever you’re fighting about. but luckily you guys don’t fight very often, jack is level headed and does his best to solve issues by talking to you

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

extremely grateful. he knows being with him is hard for several reasons and appreciates you so much. also very aware of all that you do for him and makes sure to praise you for it

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

he doesn’t really hold secrets per say, but he hasn’t told you everything about his past and probably never will. he completely trusts you but it’s just not something he likes to think about, much less talk about. greatly appreciates when you understand and don’t press on the subject

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

you’ve definitely helped him overcome certain personal issues. he had a lot of issues with his self worth and wondering if he deserved anything good in his life. you didn’t just magically solve everything when you came into his life but you stayed with him through the process and supported him

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

jack is honestly a very possessive and overprotective person. he knows the type of people he hangs out with and never wants you to meet them. he doesn’t want them to ‘taint’ you in any way or hurt you. jack also keeps this attitude for any regular person as well

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

i’m gonna be totally honest with you, your first kiss was pretty awful. jack hadn’t had any experience since he was a human and now he had to make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt you with his teeth so your first kiss was really awkward and chaste. eventually gets the hang of it and gets more trust in himself to not hurt you

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

he goes total old school and writes you a note. since he has trouble writing nicely he actually typed it out on an typewriter he has, which just adds to the charm of the letter really. even seals it with a nice wax seal he has. when he hands the note to you, you’re more than shocked and a little concerned. first of all, his hands have the slightest tremble to them which is very rare for someone as composed as jack. not to mention how uncomfortable the silence makes him feel as you carefully read over each word. he keeps shuffling his feet and coughing to aid the silence. when he hears your elated acceptance after you’re done reading, he swears he could combust right there. partially from happiness from your newfound relationship, partially from the huge wave of relief coming from his body since the silence is finally over.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

he would not want to get married. he thinks it’s really stupid and plus, you guys can’t even actually get married, no one wants to officiate a demons wedding. if you convince him enough though, he may do a faux proposal with a ring pop

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

it’s really cheesy but he enjoys calling you baby and angel. he mostly calls you angel though. jack thinks it’s really adorable if you call him pet names too but not for the same reason that you probably do... he just enjoys it for the simple reason that it’s very funny to him hearing you call him, a organ eating demon with no eyes, your adorable little sweetie pie

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

it wouldn’t be overtly obvious unless someone really knew jack. like jeff won’t be able to tell but his closer friends like toby and tim can pick up on the subtle changes. like how he laughs at bens stupid jokes more, or how he isn’t as moody when he has to fix up toby when he hurts himself again, or when he isn’t as pissed when jeff annoys him. he just seems happier in general and his friends can’t help but feel a little happy themselves

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

doesn’t brag about you but isn’t afraid to show affection in front of others. it isn’t embarrassing to him and as long you keep it reasonable he doesn’t care. sometimes kisses you or pulls you into his lap in front of the other creeps so he can laugh at them making fake gagging and vomiting noises

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

not sure if this counts as beneficial but since he’s a demon he can scent you. this is mainly to let any other demons know that you’re taken and keep them away from you. this also means he rubs against your neck all the time which means he gives you a lot of affection too!

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

jack tries to be romantic but demons don’t exactly have the same standards of romance that humans do so it often comes off wrong. likes giving you pretty stuff he finds in the forest like pretty rocks, old snail shells, abandoned trinkets, and sometimes even live animals. (he brought you a dead one once and quickly regretted it when you cried over the mouse carcass he had presented you). definitely reminds of you a bird sometimes so he’s creative in his own way. also likes trying romantic things you want like picnics or dancing in the kitchen. does whatever he can to make you smile and gets excited when you bring up new ideas for you guys to try

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

believes in you 100% and will do anything to help you achieve your dreams and ambitions. he’s super proud of you no matter what it is and is your biggest supporter

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

jack just kinda goes with the flow. if you wanna try something new he’s usually down for it but if you just wanna sit at home and cuddle he’s down for that too. that being said, he does like trying new things with you. if you wanna try to cook something new, jack will be there with you every step of the way. if you wanna try painting, he’ll be there trying his own painting. you do have to get used to his criticism on new things though, even if it hurts

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

remembers just about everything you’ve told him about yourself. is very observant as well so he’s also picked up on your social cues like when you’re nervous or excited. so it’s safe to say he knows you extremely well. and while he may not always understand your emotions or where you’re coming from, he’ll do his best to understand what you’re going through and give you adequate care

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

your relationship is worth everything to jack. he doesn’t let himself get close to people often so the fact that you were not only able to break down his walls and squirm your way into his life, but also that you’ve made yourself a permanent fixture in it as well is impressive. you’re a very important and precious fixture in his life. and he’ll do anything to keep you happy and by his side

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

jack really enjoys solving conspiracy theories and ARG’s with you. loves finding out how all the puzzle pieces fit together and you both find yourself excitedly awaiting the next update. you guys haven’t actually solved anything yet or been right even once but jack still has hope!

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

in the beginning of your relationship he’d be more conservative and nervous to initiate touch with you, but as time grows on he’ll start getting the insatiable desire to crush you against his chest or wrap his arms around your waist and hold you for dear life. will always wait until you’re comfortable with affection though, and once you are comfortable, you are never leaving his grasp. loves cuddling with you and hugging you from behind, giving you a quick kiss on your hairline. really just loves feeling you against him in the most pure way

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

he can go a regular amount of time without missing you too much but if you guys are separated for any extended period of time he will hate it so much. on the outside he’ll look perfectly calm, not saying a single word about you to anymore or seeming like he misses you at all. but on the inside he’s dying a bit without your gentle touches and wet kisses to his forehead. hugs his pillow tighter at night when he misses you and tries to keep his hands occupied all the time

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

not in the regular sense but he will do just about anything to keep you happy. let’s you touch his face, tells you somewhat about his past, keeps seedeater around to protect you, would even disguise himself in public for you if he needed to. would fight any other demons if they ever got too close as well

[alolowrites]

A Late Night Promise

Summary: Much to your dismay, you share an elevator ride with Shouto after staying late at the office one night.   

Author’s Note: Saw a prompt with just the word “elevator” and my mind came up with this. It’s been a while since I wrote a long-ish fic for Shouto. One last thing, everyone is of age. 

Enjoy!  

“So what do you say?”

“Oh…I don’t know…”

“C’mon.” Saito leans against the doorframe. “I promise we’ll have a great time on Saturday night. I know this fantastic hibachi restaurant in the city. The chef is also a close friend of mine. What do you say?”

“That does sound like fun.” What’s not to love about watching an experienced chef perform their tricks on the grill? The excited yells, the sleek spatulas slicing on the metal ice, the delicious food sizzling to perfection. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of it. And yet, “Can I let you know tomorrow? I just gotta make sure I’m free.”

“No problem,” he smiles at you. “Text me when you’re ready.”

Waving goodbye, you walk away. Few employees are working late tonight at Endeavor’s agency, especially if they are network engineers such as yourself. You don’t mind staying behind to help. It means spending more time in the server rooms. Each one is like a fun maze where you purposefully try to get lost in. They came in handy after enduring a painful heartbreak.

The hallway runs for miles. Lights flicker above you and the low buzz tickles your ears. You can’t shake the growing feeling of someone watching you. Pausing mid-step, you peek over your shoulders with weary eyes. A janitor pushes his cart around the corner. His whistles echo down the hall until they fade away.

You relax.

It’s a false alarm. Shaking your head, you stride towards the elevator. Cool air bursts from the vents which is a blessing. Outside is a nightmare with all the humidity. From the corner of your eye, you see a storm approaching. The wind howls in between the trembling leaves. Dark clouds gradually engulf the entire block like the Blob Monster. And soft thunder rumbles in the distance.

Perhaps it will rain tonight. Lord knows you desperately need it to rain. After suffering under humidity’s tyrant rule, you are ready to be saved.

The button turns yellow. You wait for the elevator by scrolling through your phone. Instagram is a bore. Snapchat’s hourglass reminds you to keep your fiery streak alive. And, unsurprisingly, Chargebolt is trending on Twitter. Just as your thumb hangs above the screen, the strange feeling returns.

You glance to your left and nearly drop the phone. Shouto is marching down the hallway. Panic hits as you pound the button multiple times. Seconds are ticking by. Precious time is fleeing. Where is the damn elevator?!

Ding!

You immediately dive inside. Lurching forward, you attack the button until the doors start closing. A hand slices midway and everything stops. Shouto saunters inside; the elevator groans under the newly added weight. You scuff back to the center. He dusts off the invisible lint on his black dress shirt. He gives you a once over before standing besides you.

The elevator moves.

No music plays from the speakers. The box is so quiet, but your mind is on overdrive. It’s as if someone accidentally disconnected a cable and now the network system is malfunctioning. Only you couldn’t fix this mess. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea answering those emails; they kept you behind an extra ten minutes. Too late to change that now.  

You glimpse at the black screen above you. The dwindling numbers keep you sane even if you’re hanging on by a thread. Once the ride reaches the lobby, you will block it from your memory. Until then, all you need to do is ignore him. It should be easy enough.

“You’re leaving late again.”

Shoulders back.

“It’s not good for your health.”

Eyes front.

“Will you please say something to me?”

Lips shut.

Shouto takes the hint and backs off. He rethinks his strategy in silence while your eyes are fixated on the elevator’s doors. His body is partially blurred. Although you couldn’t see his face, you know he is frustrated; the clenched fist gives it away. Your phone vibrates in your grasp. A soft smile tugs on your lips as you read the sweet message.

Shouto scoffs. You frown.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shoves one hand in his pocket. You suspiciously eye him before turning your attention to the phone again.

The blue light flickers with each floor change. A finger taps against the side of his leg. Time is running out for him. He must act quick. Who knows when he will be this close to you, and alone, ever again. Shouto thinks back to your answer and nearly cries; he craves to hear the sound of your voice—it’s sweet and addictive.

“Are you going to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Go out with him?”

“How did you—did you spy on me?!”

Shouto bites back a grin. That’s six more words than the last response.

“I wanted to know if you were okay.” He shrugs as if he did nothing wrong. A migraine knocks on your forehead. “Your team has been working diligently on installing the new security firewalls. After all, my father wants to make sure everything is secured.”

“Forget about your father’s insane demands!” You thrust a finger his way. “How long have you been spying on me, huh? Tell me right now!”

His mouth is glued shut.

“Shouto!”

“Since you started talking to Saito!” Embers flicker off his hair. He towers over you, but you do not flinch away. One hand rushes through his locks. “He kept getting close to you. I wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt you.”

“Like you didn’t hurt me?!” You dryly laugh. Your icy glare almost gives him frostbite. “You’re the one who broke up with me!”

“I did it to protect you!” Oh here we go again, that same old excuse. You pace around the elevator to avoid his nonsense. Shouto does not back down. “There are villains who want to kill me! If they ever found out about you—”

“You don’t think I know that?!” A foot harshly stomps on the floor and rattles the box. “For crying out loud, Shouto, I work for your dad! This whole freaking office is a prime target!”

The numbers continue climbing down.

“I knew the risks that came with dating you. I’m not stupid, but you—” a finger jabs his shirt “—made the choice to leave me. You decided to end things without even considering how it would have hurt me.”

His eyes flicker between your finger and fiery daggers.

“It was hard getting over you.” A cold, haughty chuckle rings into the air. “But now that I’m ready to start dating again, you decide to spy on me? You have some nerve!”

Another stab to his chest.

“It’s over, Shouto.” You boldly stand your ground. “I suggest you move on and forget about us.”

A thin line appears on his mouth.

Shouto marches towards the front and smashes the emergency button. The elevator abruptly stops. For a few seconds, it shakes like an aftershock from a larger earthquake. You yelp and stumble, but catch yourself. Shouto’s hand slips down. The unbearable humidity returns, only it feels worse, like standing in the middle of the Amazon rainforest with no escape.

A pair of eyes focuses on you. He’s like a jaguar who briskly stalks closer to his prey. Out of instinct, your legs stagger away from him until you hit a wall. Two large hands slam against the metal plate. The shockwaves roll down your back as his arms cage you in place.

When Shouto leans forward, you swallow a hard gulp. Apparently there are two storms happening tonight—one outside and the other thrashing inside his eyes. You’ve only seen this look a few times; it never fails to make you shudder with anticipation. Soon a small flame ignites deep in your soul.

It grows at an alarming rate. A cool sensation trails across your jawline and down your neck. You restrain yourself from biting your bottom lip. The air swirling around becomes unstable. Your breathing quickens its pace. Your throat dries instantly. Your heart beats uncontrollably. Shouto amusingly peeks at the bag and the pitiful distance it puts in between you two.

“You said to move on and forget, but there’s one small problem…” His gravelly voice makes your legs quiver. He tilts his head so your noses brush. You could almost taste the peppermint breath flowing out from his parted mouth. It fails to cool down your flushed face. After the brief pause, he rasps, “I can’t and I’ll show you why.”

Lightning finally strikes.

Without warning, strong lips crash against yours. They are desperate for you. Starving even. His actions reawakens a long forgotten feeling in your core. The small flame transforms into a powerful wildfire ravaging everything in its path. You wither under the heat. At this point, nothing holds you back and fully give in.

You kiss him. Hard.  

A cool touch makes you gasp. Shouto wastes no time devouring the inside of your mouth with his tongue. The movements are precise, yet reckless. A wave of pleasure spreads throughout your body as your eyes roll back. The bag drops to the floor and Shouto effortlessly kicks it behind. With the only obstacle gone, he collapses his entire weight on you.  

You yank away to catch your breath.

Large hands seamlessly wander down your body. They are painfully slow for your liking. Shouto smirks when your fists fervently tug the collar of his shirt. He stops torturing you by swooping his hands underneath your thighs and lifting you up. Eager legs wrap around Shouto’s torso to hold yourself steady.

After weeks being apart, you miss his touch. You miss exploring his lean muscles bulging through the fabric. You miss inhaling his unique cologne scent. You miss digging your fingers through his sleek hair and disrupting its neat form. You simply miss everything about him.

Shouto hears you beg and fulfills your wish by deepening the kiss. It is more animalistic, more ferocious than the first one. Shouto shoves you further up against the wall for better control. Ironically, he is fighting to keep his composure together. Your tantalizing lips, however, pushes him over the edge. Lustful thoughts consume his mind as he praises every inch of your body. His mouth attacks your neck while you sing against his ear.

He almost loses it when you breathe out his name.

Meanwhile, his searing touches threaten to unravel the last string of your sanity. You guide his mouth back to yours as you are hungry for more. The storm charges through with no end in sight. Shouto’s satisfying groans blurs with the thunderous applause exploding among the thick clouds. Time is nonexistent. Your focus is on Shouto who pours his entire heart and soul into each blazing kiss. They are chaotic, but divine. You surrender yourself to the madness and transcend into a state of euphoria.

Oh how you wish you could stay there forever.

As the kisses weaken, you sink back down to reality. Through your heavy eyelids, you see Shouto pull away from your plump lips. Both chests heave like two runners who finished a grueling marathon. There are no crowds of people cheering for you two, just your heart. A soft sirocco wind passes by as Shouto tiredly presses his forehead on yours.

He croaks, “Now you understand why I can’t move on and forget about us?”

You do.

Shouto searches through your overwhelmed eyes for an answer. He gently caresses your face like the precious treasure it is. The hero savors your lips one last time and etches them into his memory. Fighting against his wish, he carefully puts you down. Your legs wobble and you don’t trust yourself to move. Shouto walks to the front and press some buttons.

The elevator roars to life again.  

You tuck in your blouse and pathetically fix your disheveled hair. A bag appears in your sight. Grabbing it, you choke out a quick “thanks” to Shouto. Both of you return to your original positions as if the passionate episode never happened.

No music plays from the speaker, but it is far from quiet. You hear your heart racing and the electric sparks buzzing in the tensed air.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto whispers. You stiffen at the sound. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. I was inconsiderate about everything…especially your feelings.”

You lower your gaze.

“I won’t stop you from going on that date.”

Your ears perk at his statement. Ignoring all warnings, you stare at him. Something indescribable swirls in his eyes. You realize they only appear when he’s preparing himself for battle.

“It is still your choice to make, but,” Shouto holds your hand in his warm grasp. The sheer determination flaring through his gaze takes your breath away. “Please know that I will not rest until I win your heart again.”

Ding!

The doors open, but you don’t exit. You’re still trying to process his words—his declaration of war for whomever decides to challenge him. Closing your gaped mouth, you glance between Shouto, your hand and the empty lobby. You numbly step off the elevator and lumber away.

Rain droplets cover the glass doors. Everything is quiet outside. The storm is gone and off to torment another city. You can finally breathe since the air is lighter. As you take a whiff of the earthy-musty scent, you feel the back of your hairs rise. Your eyes peer over your shoulders to see Shouto watching you.

He proudly stands tall.

A giddy sensation rushes down your spine. You grip the handle to keep yourself steady. Overwhelmed, you release a shaky sigh before exiting the building. In the lobby, Shouto curls his fist without looking away.

“I promise to win you back.” His lips curve into a small, but confident smile. “No matter how long it takes.”

Shouto will make sure of it.

As always, thank you for reading!  

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

But? Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: you go through a lot because of Tim and Damian but in different ways.

Request: do you listen to asmr boyfriend roleplay (on yt)? Some of them would be great as fics.

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, sexual innuendos, language, fluff, a very light mention of violence, light mentions of insecurity, is rain a warning?

A/N: the fact that every fic I’ve written for these characters has the same concept is very funny but I definitely see the appeal and the potential.

Based off these YouTube videos: one two three

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Replaying it didn’t make it easier to digest. After months of plans to move in together and talks about adopting a dog, Tim had broken up with you. He fell for someone else, a person he spoke about often.

She was a coworker of his, a gorgeous woman if anyone asked you. You could never blame him for falling for someone like her, she looked like a model and was a badass agent — it just hurt.

Now you were packing the belongings he kept at your place to send them to him with Alfred. It seemed like he couldn’t only break your heart and walk away, Tim also had to humiliate you. Out of respect, Alfred didn’t ask anything at all, he merely reminded you he was always available for you and wished you a good night.

The TV show playing in front of you wasn’t being processed by your brain. Curled up on the bed, covered with the duvet and a fuzzy blanket, you were desperately trying to conceive some sleep, for your brain to at least calm down so your head would stop throbbing and your eyes twitching.

Startled by tapping on the window, you were forced to swallow the mucus clogging your nose. Coughing, you rolled on the bed to asses who had disturbed you. Upon realizing it was just Robin, you begrudgingly left the bed to open the window.

He entered the room without saying anything, waiting for you to lock the window and close the curtains to take his domino mask off. He always did that, no matter how many times you told him no one would see him.

Damian stared down at the dozens of used Kleenex in the trashcan you kept near the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“I thought you knew...” your voice was strained, throat too tired due to the sobbing.

“I clearly don’t.”

“Tim dumped me for someone else.” Saying it in front of his brother was even worse than you had imagined. “Why are you here if it isn’t because I forgot to pack his brown jacket?”

Damian plopped down on your desk chair, staring directly at you, “patrol was boring and father is with Kyle again.”

Nodding, you went back to your spot on the bed, making yourself comfortable with a pillow on your lap.

“Are you tired?”

You were, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Not at all,” you lied so he wouldn’t dare leave. “Do you want to watch that movie you recommended to me last month?”

“Sure.”

Browsing through different streaming services until you found the film, you saw Damian take parts of his suit off in order to be more comfortable. Surprising you, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, once you had found the title.

You had to admit that paying attention was easier with him around, probably because you didn’t want to annoy him. The film did its job, you finally got distracted — you also fell asleep.

It became a routine, every night he would tap on your window and make you company. Some nights you would stay up until sunrise when you had to go to work, others he would be so tired he’d crash out on your couch, and a few nights you fully rested because his presence made you feel calmer.

Damian and you had never been too close, he and Tim had a complicated relationship and you didn’t want to have problems with your now ex-boyfriend. Now you hoped you had, he wasn’t what you had thought — Damian was nicer than every member of the family made him out to be, funnier, smarter, kinder. You genuinely enjoyed being around him.

He was extremely patient with you. He’d recommend you things to entertain yourself, let you vent when you needed, and without having to do it, would often make sure you had been eating properly because he had observed that between how much you had cried the days after the breakup, your job, and your lack of sleep you were low on energy. Damian had even spent an entire week helping you redecorate the apartment to cheer your spirit.

Being close to Damian meant spending time at the park with Titus, a shit ton of it, and trying new food every weekend, and visiting art galleries which had never been your thing. Being close to Damian also meant worrying because with all of his skills and abilities he was the most stubborn man you had ever met who often fought blindly just to end up in the Batcave's medical wing with a worried Alfred calling you to let you know your friend was hurt but alive.

Most importantly, being close to him meant feeling free to be yourself. You were sure no one would believe you, but it had never been truer.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Elevators had you tired, ironically. The only reason you hadn’t taken the stairs was that you were carrying a portfolio full of documents, a book bag, your purse, and a coat — everything was wet, just like you. Taking an umbrella would’ve saved you many nuisances, or not walking home from work, but you were too distracted in the morning to remember and now you were paying for it thanks to the rain that came with the nearing seasonal change.

You liked the rain, its sound was soothing, the smell made you aware of your own existence as it awakened your senses, you felt cleansed by it. A lovely thing to experience overall, just not after a long day of work.

Stepping out the second the elevator doors slid open, you took the keys out of your coat with your right hand. You let the straps of your purse slide down to your forearm as you flexed your arm while introducing the key in the lock, when it turned, you sighed out of relief and pushed the door open to finally get inside.

The lights were already on, sizzling echoed around the small apartment and a familiar smell of stir-fried vegetables hit your nose. You hung your coat, letting it drip as much water it naturally could before even daring to put it into the dryer.

Walking further into the apartment, you found Damian in the kitchen. He was wearing the comfiest clothes you had seen him on, sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with only a pair of white socks.

“What are you doing in here with this weather?” you asked, taking a look at what he was cooking.

“I was bored.”

He always said the same, you always told him you didn’t believe him but he ignored it every single time. Patting his back, you announced you would get changed.

“Don’t take too long, dinner will get cold!”

As much as you were fine with Damian being there( and his cuisine,) you had to wonder why couldn’t he tell you his reasonings for his presence at your place. One thing was him visiting when you were there and another him practically breaking into your apartment — you were open to give him a copy of the keys, to be honest, but you would really appreciate it if he asked.

Dinner was delicious, shared over talk about your day. Damian was avoiding speaking about his day, about his entire week actually — in the past month and a half he hadn’t done anything close to that.

Sat on the couch in order to continue bingeing the show the two of you had started last week, you considered asking him what was going on with him. It partially scared you, the last time a member of that family had acted like that toward you they broke your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you threw your head backward to rest it against the edge of the sofa. Damian watched you, frowning. “Are you okay?”

You answered in a hum. “You?”

“Peachy.”

You moved around the couch, opening your eyes to stare at him. He stared back, the frown slowly disappearing from his face as seconds passed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired in a timid voice.

“Father is planning on retiring.”

“Oh... are you taking over?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t picture anyone but him doing it. Dick had been miserable as Batman, Jason wasn’t interested in being like Bruce after everything that had happened, and Cass was finally finding a balance in her life.

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am.”

“But?”

He shook his head, “but nothing. It was a long day.”

For your mental wellbeing, you didn’t press on it. He was clearly hiding something from you but he had the right to do so. It made you feel bad but whatever.

The lights flickered, prompting you to groan. The storm was getting worse, the sky was rumbling with thunder and the lighting striking the city and flashing into the living room through the thin white drapes was as mesmerizing as terrifying.

You mumbled, “can you stay?”

“Yes.”

Damian walked behind you, holding the flashlight from his cellphone to light the path toward your bedroom. You undid the bed quickly so he wouldn’t have to hold the device up for so long, you were sure it wasn’t an inconvenience to him but you still didn’t want to bother him.

He sat down on the bed, just next to you, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep next to me if you want.” You felt your face burn up the second the words left your mouth yet you meant them. Oh, you did.

You heard shuffling. Assuming he was taking his sweatshirt off to get into bed, you moved away from the middle of the mattress toward the farthest side from him.

Getting under the duvet, Damian laid on his back. His cologne mixed with his usual smell of vanilla and almonds filled your nostrils as he dropped his head onto the pillow with his arms crossed against his front.

“Dami?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can you get closer? I’m cold.”

With no hesitation, he turned over in order to lay on his side. Throwing his arm around you from behind, “Is that better?”

You relaxed with your back against his chest, letting a content sigh out. Damian inhaled deeply, taking a whiff off you. He did it again then, finding the smell of your lotion soothing. As he relaxed too, his arm curled around you more comfortably with his hand laying on your plump belly. You placed your hand on top of his, a little nervous yet excited. Being held was a nice feeling, one you had forgotten.

He lifted his fingers, brushing yours. You intertwined your fingers between his, playing with them. He huffed a light breath, caressing the sides of your fingers as you played with his.

Turning around, you got lost into the ethereal way the light from the lamppost entering through the window illuminated Damian’s side profile. He opened his mouth to probably say something but you abruptly shut him up. You did know what overcame you, it was something that had been simmering in you for the past month — the need of being near him, the butterflies that swarmed inside you when he laughed, the peace he brought you. He surprised you by kissing back.

“Shit,” you exclaimed, realizing you had actually done it. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted to assure you. He placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in again. “Can we do it again?”

You kissed him again, feeling him tighten his arm around you in order to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss too, prying your mouth open as you held his face in order to ground yourself mentally. Damian laid you on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he straddled you — his lips didn’t leave yours, not even as both of you whimpered while his hands trailed up and down your thighs and yours mapped his back. Full-on making out with your best friend wasn’t how you pictured your shitty day ending, but you weren’t about to complain.

Damian couldn’t keep his lips off your face, enjoying the softness of your cheeks under his mouth and seeing the natural twitches of your nose which made him realize you were actually awake. He hoped he hadn’t awakened you up.

“I thought you were asleep.” The depth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Were you pretending?”

You hummed, “it was hard with all those kisses.”

“I wasn’t kissing you,” he said teasingly, using his index and middle fingers to lift your head in order to continue kissing your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

He answered, “yes. The best in months.” It felt good knowing you weren’t the only one.

Damian hugged you close with both arms, exhaling happily, “you’re very warm.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you hugged back. You didn’t know what it meant, or the meaning behind the gesture of still cuddling in bed with the guy you had started developing feelings for mere weeks after breaking up with his brother. But it didn’t matter, you were comfortable in his arms and happy with seemingly having cracked his shell.

You had to ask, however. “Did I overstep last night?”

“No, I told you it was okay.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pulled away enough to fully face you. You attempted to ignore him, shifting under his gaze. Damian licked his lips, “did I make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head, the sound the friction of the side of your face made against the pillow too loud for your liking. “I just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Is this ruining our friendship?”

You stuttered, “I— I think so?” You weren’t sure.

“I want to ruin it,” he stated, eyes fixed on yours, “more than anything.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it, his full lips tempting you again. You were scared of the lack of guilt you were feeling, but you happily gave in. “Let’s ruin it, then.”

Smiling brightly, he dipped his face in order to kiss you. You were certain you would never get over his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his touch, his intoxicating scent, his silky voice... God, he truly had you smitten.

Nuzzling against your shoulder, he intertwined his legs with yours. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

You giggled. “Then don’t.”

Damian decided he could do that, just cuddle his favorite person in the world until something came up, maybe.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You had been typing on your computer, as music harmonized your den-office when the doorbell rang. Looking at the time to try and guess who could be visiting you on a Tuesday noon, you pushed yourself back, away from the desk, in order to stand up.

Dot, the Labrador you had adopted no long ago wiggled her tail from her spot near the couch as you crossed the living room. She loved laying there, she had a good view of the door and could jump on you the second you got home.

You regretted opening the door the second you faced your visitor. Tim Drake smiled timidly at you, “hi, (Y/N).”

“I— uh, hello?” You tilted your head, confused as to what he was doing there, who had given him the address and why had he thought he would be welcome.

“Can I come in?”

You lifted your index finger. “Just a second.”

Opening the guest-closet, you took a pair of slippers out and padded back toward the door. Tim looked down at the slippers you were offering to him, then at his shoes — as he did, he realized you weren’t wearing any footwear.

He complied, taking his shoes off and sliding his feet into the slippers. When he asked where to put the pair of footwear he had just taken off, you pointed to a mat next to the door, just under the key holders. You closed the front door as he dropped his shoes.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, eyes taking in as much of the space around him as possible, “your taste has changed! How long has it been?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

“We really need to catch up!”

You motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Dot curiously stared at him when he did so while you asked, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be fine,” he answered just to have more time to examine the living room. It was extremely luxurious, with a vaulted ceiling and oversized windows.

Curious about the overall design of the penthouse, and how good your job had to be for you to be able to pay for such living arrangements, he followed you toward the kitchen where you were preparing his coffee. It was as full of luxury as the living room, with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and a breakfast bar the size of your previous apartment’s entire kitchen.

“How have you been?” He asked, sliding his palm against the marbled breakfast bar.

“I’ve been great.” You gave him a tight smile, placing the sugar bowl onto the bar.

“I’m glad. How’s your family?”

“They’re great, thank you.” Out of courtesy, you asked, “how have you been?”

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “well, after I abruptly broke up with you, from which I’m very sorry because I was a dick, my girlfriend broke up with me too...”

“I’m sorry.” You genuinely felt for him, being dumped out of the blue wasn’t something you wished upon anyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, you handed it to him.

“It’s okay,” he smiled openly, nodding as a thank you for the coffee and dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the beverage, “I’m over it. I moved to Europe when Bruce said he needed someone to supervise the branch of the company there, the drama wasn’t good for my spirit.”

“Why are you back? It’s not like Gotham has changed.”

“My best friend is getting married.”

You hummed, finding estrange that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“You have a new boy or anything?”

You stuttered, dropping a teabag into a cup, “perhaps.”

“Come on, (N/N), tell me! I won’t get mad.” He deviated his gaze. “I’m over you and everything.”

You confessed then, pouring hot water on top of the herbs, “I am dating Damian.”

“Which Damian?”

You waited for your ex-boyfriend to swallow the sip of coffee he had just taken and took the opportunity to have a sip of tea to calm your nerves. “Wayne,” you explained.

“You’re dating my little brother?!” He whisper-shouted. You simply nodded. “For how long?”

“Eleven months.”

“So what? You ran into his arms as soon as I broke up with you?!”

You didn’t appreciate the tone he was using or what he was insinuating. Definitely not when he had cheated on you without for once thinking of sparing your feelings.

“Damian was there for me when no one else had the time, it just happened.”

“I thought you were going to stay away from my family,” he reproached you.

In all honesty, you had thought the same thing. As much as Alfred had told you to call him if you needed anything when he went to pick up the belongings Tim kept at your place, you hadn’t planned on doing it — but that same night, when Damian arrived, tired after a long patrol, and playing dumb by saying he had just dropped by because he was bored you decided you didn’t have to, you didn’t want to. Eventually, you evolved, as many things had after that night, not for Damian nor because of him but next to him, with his patience and support.

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head.

“I thought you were over me.”

“I’m not jealous! But you deserve better than him — you’re so pretty and nice and he’s selfish and mean and depends on Bruce for everything.”

That didn’t sound like Damian at all. “Maybe you don’t know your brother.”

“You’re telling me he’s changed? Because I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t be a testimony of Damian’s change when you had never seen the version Tim described, but you could definitely say Damian was everything you had always wanted in a partner and more — he was what you needed, what you loved.

“You still can do way, waaaaaay better than him,” Tim interpreted your silence as a confirmation of Damian’s change.

“Like who, Timothy?”

“Like me!” he exploded, clenching his eyes shut for a couple seconds to control his breathing. “I’ll go straight to the point: I miss you. I came back to get you back, there’s no wedding. I was too stupid to see what I had when I had it, I know, but I’ve changed,” he assured, “I have a new philosophy, I’m surrounded by better people. I’m not blind anymore.”

“Neither I am.”

He ignored your comment and went on, “let’s just start again. In another country, a new house. We’ll adopt as many puppies as you want!” Tim took an envelope out, “I have two plane tickets here for tomorrow. One is yours.”

The front door unlocked loudly, prompting both you and Dot to crane your necks in order to stare at it. Damian pushed it open, shoes in hand and blazer draping over his forearm.

You saw him focus on the pair of shoes on the mat for mere seconds before Dot happily wiggled her tail at him as she approached him. Damian threw his blazer to the nearest couch, quickly undoing his tie which followed suit, before hunching down to pet the little dog.

Out of habit, you left the kitchen to walk toward him and greet him. He stood back up, naturally towering over you and kissing you softly, “hello, beloved.”

You giddily smiled, forgetting you weren’t alone, “hi, handsome. I missed you.” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you inhaled his scent. God, you had truly missed him. Sleeping without him wasn’t the same, nor having to rely on music or the tv for the place to not feel alone. Two days of not hearing his voice not waking up tangled up with him were too much sometimes.

Damian put his hands on your waist, sighing at finally being able to touch your soft body again. “I missed you more.” He leaned downward, placing his lips on yours again.

“(Y/N),” Tim pleaded from behind you, making you jump.

Damian parted from you, looking past your shoulder and directly at his brother. “Drake. What are you doing in here?”

You stepped to the side, opting for opening the terrace’s door so Dot could have some fun outside. In the background, as you leant against the doorway and watched the little dog sniff the terrace, you heard Tim say Alfred had given him the address. Oh, sweet Alfred, always trying to keep the family together.

Turning around, you saw them both sit down in front of each other in the living room. Trying to keep them from fighting, you walked back into the room and sat down next to your boyfriend.

Tim immediately told you, “please don’t throw it all to waste for him.”

Both Damian and you frowned. He put his hand on your thigh, like he had done the first time he had taken you to a business dinner as his date, like he had grown used to do under any table. It was your favorite gesture, he wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he still made sure to always be touching you — the fact that he loved your thighs when you had always been insecure due to their size was a nice addition.

“I’m over you, Tim. Damian is my boyfriend, and with who I want to be.”

“He’ll never love you like I do, he can’t.” Tim’s tone was the harshest you had heard from him.

He was right, though. Damian would never love you like Tim did, that was the whole point. You didn’t want what Tim had to offer, the kind of love he could give — you were past that, you had been for a long time now and it felt amazing.

Tired and spent, Damian hugged you extremely tightly while cuddling that night, almost to the point where you struggled to breathe. Wiggling in his arms in order to turn around and face him, you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could.

“What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Nothing.”

You dropped yourself onto your back, struggling to bring him in but ultimately succeeding. Damian sighed, shifting to be more comfortable as he laid his head on your bare chest.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Damian inhaled your scent, sighing in content — he was in his safe place. “I sometimes forget not everyone sees me the way you do.”

You supposed he was referring to Tim’s assumptions about him. “Does it bother you?”

“Only when they use it to try putting you against me.”

“You know they would never succeed, right?” You needed him to be aware of that.

“I do.”

“But?”

He moved to hover over you, fitting his legs between yours as he propped himself up with his elbows. “But it’s different when your ex does it. And no, I’m not jealous, I do trust you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You understood what he meant, perfectly so. Damian had been there to pick up the pieces, he had helped you glue them together and even taught you to tweak them so the final piece would look better — with that, beautiful things had bloomed, but in between many tears had been shed on your behalf and many confessions had been made regarding your feelings in general; sprinkle in how hard it had been to process the fact that you had fallen for each other and you could understand where he was coming from. There was a piece of Damian in you, and there was a piece of you in him; at every level.

“It’s not relevant anymore, love,” you reminded him.

Damian caught your lips in a tender kiss, humming. “I just wish he wasn’t back.”

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And if he isn’t, I don’t care.” You started playing with his hair, unconsciously running your fingers up and down through his locks. “But I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with your brother because of me.”

“We’ve spoken about that.”

Damian had never been able to get along with Tim, his relationship with Dick was great and he had even built one with Jason, Cass was his favorite, and he had gotten to meet with Helena a few times. However, his resentment toward Tim heightened when you two started frequenting each other — he seemed to now despise him.

You tilted your head to pepper kisses over his jaw. “You’ll manage, Damian. You ignored him for years.”

Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, letting his weight gradually fall on top of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he smirked before burying his face in your neck. “Besides,” Damian mumbled, “he’s not the one keeping you up tonight.”

[chaos-caffeinated]

The Illegitimate Son

Rating: T; General Angst

Word Length: 4,265 Words 

Chapter: Chapter 4, Part 2/3; The Intervention

---

          He shyly knocked before poking his head in to see the counselor, and hero, sitting behind his desk, waiting for him. Hound Dog met his gaze and waved him in, taking note of Aaron’s attempt to make himself more presentable -washed face, swept back hair, straightened uniform- as he sat in the plush seat across from his desk.

          "Aaron, right?" He asked. Aaron only nodded politely in response, his body tense.

          Organizing his thoughts and being careful not to intimidate the young redhead, Hound Dog relaxed his shoulders and softened his scrutinizing glare. Aaron kept twiddling his thumbs, nervously glancing back towards the door he entered through. The tension was palpable, and it came from only one person.

          “Aaron, you aren’t in any sort of trouble.”

          The young male relaxed, a heavy sigh escaping his once pursed lips as he leaned back into the chair, but he still seemed on guard.

          It would be a gradual process, but Hound Dog was patient, he had to be. Partially because his Quirk made him incoherent when he got upset, but also because of his background as a counselor. He knew Aaron would answer in his own time, all he had to do was ask the right questions at the right time.

          “I just want to know how you’re doing. It can be difficult adjusting to a new school, let alone a new country. So, are you well?”

          His body retreated into the chair.

          His frame shrunk slightly.

          His eyes glued to the floor.

          "I am." Aaron blatantly lied, biting the inside of his lip, "I'm just...it's hard to get accustomed to... a new culture."

          This is good, he may be lying, but at least he’s talking. And that is all Hound Dog needs.

          "New culture?”

          “Um… well, not really the culture… uh, heroes? They’re seen…differently, I guess.”

          Hound Dog was silent as he thought of his reply, watching himself. “Aaron, does this difference in perspective have anything to do with this?”

          He pulled out two papers, placing them in front of Aaron and patiently waited.

          Hesitant, Aaron glanced at the fine lines of the papers, the words for him blurry but recognizable. Getting a closer look, his attention was focused on the paper that was written on. It was filled out in its entirety, even the margins had scrawling. Finally, he brought himself to look at the blank paper, his paper, beside it.

          "You left yours blank, yet you wrote your name on it and gave it back. Wouldn't it have been easier if you just kept the paper?" His voice was softer, and he leaned forward.

          Aaron clenched his jaw, he didn't want this right now, he wanted to leave. Looking anywhere besides the counselor in front of him, he shrugged his shoulders and sunk back into his seat.

          "I suppose you want to leave, want to talk about anything else, but Aaron,” Hound Dog took a deep breath, “is that really what you need?”

          Aaron flinched again and glanced at his eyes, he wanted him to be cold and critical, intimidating and unable to speak properly like the other day, his eyes boring straight through him but… they were so soft and filled with genuine worry.

          He didn't like that at all.

          "I’m not feeling well, and I'm sorry I brought it to the campus."

          "Why are you apologizing for something you didn’t do?"

          Aaron's lips quivered and he looked down, his eyes beginning to tear up. "Because... Because U.A. is a prestigious school and... I don't deserve to be here… I only applied because I thought I wouldn’t pass, and the only reason I even had to apply was because my mom got a job here and my brother moved here. I’m a skater, not a hero and I have too many problems and god dammit I shouldn’t be feeling sorry!”

          He shut down; anxiety turned to anger. Aaron hated that he felt sorry for himself. More important people had greater issues, so why should he worry about himself? He didn’t matter, and he shouldn’t.

          Should he?

          "So, you think yourself unworthy?"

          Aaron shook his head, "No I... I feel weird, when I know I’m not the only one that's having trouble and I feel bad for... feeling bad about me."

          That… was not what Hound Dog was expecting, but it was progress and that is what he wanted.

          "So, to sum things up,” he began, organizing Aaron’s jumbled thoughts, "you don’t like feeling sorry for yourself when you ‘should’ be helping someone else?"

          Aaron nodded, but the way he said ‘should’ stirred something inside of him.

          "Do you have someone you trust?"

          He nodded again. "My mom and my brother."

          "Do you talk to them about your troubles and feelings?"

          "No, and that’s the last thing I would ever do. At least…” he trailed off, unable to discern what he was thinking.

          "What do you mean, do they pry into your life or…?”

          "No, I just feel pressured and... and yesterday was what drove me over the edge, I guess. … I'm sorry, you probably have more important things to do and I don’t want you to waste your time on me." Aaron shifted forward, about to stand up and exit before Hound Dog could stop him.

          But he had everything he wanted, and knew what Aaron needed. Though, he did have to stop himself from instinctively growling at the kid when he tried to ditch.

          "Aaron, I assure you that you're not wasting my time. I take my job seriously, when a student needs help, I'm there to provide that help -whether they need someone to talk to, career advice, or simply just to vent- that is what I am here for.”

          Aaron sat back in his seat. He felt, well he couldn’t tell how he felt. This was different than when Aria or Faian said he could talk to them. He thought they said that out of obligation, but…

          “Even the top hero students need someone to talk to. It's why I'm here, to help you students out and, right now, I’m helping you. Even if you just want to scream and get it all out… Though, I do ask you warn me so I can cover my ears.”

          Aaron had the slightest hint of a smile, almost impossible to see if one didn’t know what to look for, but Hound Dog did.

          “With that said, would you like to talk about yesterday?”

          That small smile quickly vanished, and he stayed quiet for a moment, pursing his lips and taking a deep breath before releasing it in a heavy sigh. He shifted in his seat some more, finally muttering “Will anyone know?”

          Hound Dog shook his head. "Nothing ever comes out of this office; of that I can promise.

          Aaron nodded slowly, gathering himself for what he would say. A few minutes passed when tears began to stream down his face. "Uhm... yesterday...” He hesitated, worried, but he had to do this. "Yesterday I found out that my dad is alive and ... very well, actually…"

          "Oh?” Hound Dog was surprised, but the lack of a father figure did explain some things. He urged Aaron on, kindly, of course.

          "I had never met my dad, and he doesn’t know I exist."

          Hound Dog was putting the pieces together, but he wanted Aaron to tell it at his own pace, so he continued to listen.

          "My mom..." Aaron placed his hands on his knees, gripping his slacks tightly. "She had a very different mentality back then, before she met my best friend and later adopted him, and before she took therapy, too.”

          Hound Dog nodded, signaling that he was listening. "What happened?"

          Aaron paused for a moment. "She had this thought, this… fear… that the person she cared for most wouldn’t be able to keep doing what they did forever. So, she decided that she would carry this baby, his baby, and train them, train me until I was exactly like that person… like my father.”

          Aaron’s tears wouldn’t stop, and he had to take a moment to collect himself. Hound Dog offered him some tissues and reminded him that they had all the time in the world.

          He could, and will, wait.

          “I honestly don't remember much of it since I was pretty young, or maybe she felt guilty and hid it but..." He pursed his lips again, shaking his head slowly as he rested his intertwined fingers in his lap. He couldn’t bear to look into Hound Dog’s kind eyes, so he kept his focus below at his chest.

          "It's hard to think about it. That I was the product of some delusion and that I was being groomed for some prophecy that never existed…” Aaron’s words became harsh, his anger rising again. “What if I fulfilled it? What if I became a puppet for my own mother because she was afraid?”

          Hound Dog grew wary of the sharper tone in Aaron’s voice. He knew Aaron needed to let it out, but he had to make sure he didn’t hurt himself in the process.

          “Well, did any part of it come true?”

          Aaron was caught off guard, his demeanor softening. "I-I don't know anymore... that's why I wasn’t sure about going to U.A., but I couldn’t leave Faian behind. It’s why I applied to both the hero and general departments, so I could stay with him.”

          "You really trust him, your brother. Your mother must trust him a lot, too.”

          "They want the best for me, but I don't even know what's best for me. So, yesterday with the assignment, I didn't know what to write down. I know I’m not going to be a skater forever, the only career I thought about was coaching but… I don't want to be a coach. I want to help people, like really help them… I want…” Aaron rested his arms on his thighs as he paused, thinking. "I'm not special, but sometimes I think that I can be like Faian…” that last part slipped out, and he stopped talking.

          "I know he is your brother and in the hero course, but what else can you tell me about him?” Hound Dog asked.

          Aaron was honestly surprised to hear that question. Coming from a ‘middle town’ (Faian liked to be deliberate/specific), most everyone knew everyone, and he and Faian were amongst the most well-known. Though, it made sense that all the way in Japan, he would be unknown.

          "He's my best friend… my brother, has been since kindergarten. Our mom adopted him when he was 8 after… After an accident.” Aaron was a little hesitant talking about Faian, concerned he might share something he was entrusted.

          Hound Dog took note of this and thought it may be a good idea to speak to him, too.

          “Yet, despite everything he’s been through, he’s still just so… awesome. He’s compassionate and intelligent and so powerful, but he’s humble and loves helping people better themselves. He even has his moments, his lows, but he always gets right back up, stronger than ever and just…” Aaron had to stop himself, worried he was going too far, but…

          When he was talking about Faian, he realized how much in common he had with him, more than he previously thought. ‘Two sides of the same coin’ came to mind, but he internally scoffed at the idea.

          "Interesting… Does he share his troubles with you or your mom?”

          "Mm, rarely. He’s strong enough to handle some things alone, but he knows when to reach out.” Aaron realized the irony in that statement, but he continued, hoping Hound Dog would ignore it.

          He didn’t.

          “Our mom once told me she noticed the closeness of the three of us. Like, we don't necessarily have to say something, we just know, sorta like a sixth sense. But Faian is really smart, intelligent, and when I'm with him and my mom I just feel... out of my league? I don’t feel stupid, but I feel like I don’t have to talk, or even be there… Like the two can manage without me. I even feel the same with Shinsou, with how reserved and determined he is.”

          He was surprise by how much more willing Aaron was to talk about his loved ones. Admittedly, it sounded like an inferiority complex to Hound Dog at first, but with the way Aaron spoke with genuine respect and love about his family, he began to think otherwise. He thought that Aaron might be fascinated with them, that he wants to prove that he is just as good. Or perhaps he feels like they aren’t letting him flourish, having such influence on his perceptions. Of course, it was too early for Hound Dog to make any conclusion, but he knew one thing:

          Aaron knows what he wants and how to get there, he just needs a little push, so to speak.

          “Perhaps, then, you want a change of pace? It sounds like you’ve spent so long with one type of person that you could use a fresh view. Some new, more extroverted friends.”

          Aaron thought for a while and shrugs indecisively. "I don't know," his confusion evident, "I just know that... that I'm social. At least, I try to be. I’m always moving about, trying to make small talk with new people and even interacting with my… uhm… my fans…” He whispered that last part, his cheeks dusted pink.

          "Oh? Fans? " Hound Dog asked, amused. "I take it they’re fans of your skating?”

          Aaron's eyebrows raised slightly; would this be how people talked with his mom? Like they were talking to a friend? Just sharing more and more as they grew more comfortable. He had watched her go into her psych mode, the almost genuine smiles and laughs, something that would seem incredibly real to anyone but her own children who see her real smile every day.

          Hound Dog watched Aaron's gaze focus on his desk, and he leaned forward a bit. "Aaron...?"

          "It's just... weird that they're so interested in me, either for my skating, or my looks." He had a proud smile for a second, but quickly dropped it as he continued. "I do really appreciate their support, but sometimes I feel like they don’t really care about me as a person. Like I’m just there for their entertainment."

          Hound Dog rested his hand beneath his chin and smiled, chuckling even. "You're a little skeptical about their motives for supporting you, huh? Sounds like a hero thing. Do you mind if I…?” He pointed at his computer and Aaron looked at it for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head slightly, silently asking for clarification.

          "Well, I'm pretty sure there's something I can find that'll make you understand the real reason you have fans.”

          "Like what?" Aaron was lost completely. How did they get from him being a mess to talking about his fans?

          "You’ll see soon enough but let me ask you something else while I do this. Why did you join ice-skating? You said your mom was going to turn you into a legacy for your father, but your life seems to revolve around ice-skating.”

          Aaron hummed softly, smiling faintly at the thought. "Oh… I was 3, maybe 4? At that time my mom was either working or taking night classes and she paid the neighbor to babysit me. She was an old lady ... Lucia? I think that was her name, I don't remember her much, but I do remember this one night when we were both watching TV.”

          Wistfulness spread across Aaron’s face, his eyes staring off into the distance as he imagined the scene in his head. He didn’t remember much from his toddler years, naturally, but he remembered this.

          “She was changing channels to see what interested us until I saw a flash of something bright and shiny. I asked if she could turn it back and..." His smile grew, his eyes held an enchanting gleam as he reminisced about one of his defining moments. "She was so beautiful, her dancing so wonderful with the way she moved her legs and body… like it was easy to skate. She had a snow Quirk, so every move she made there was snow coming from her hands and drifting behind her, catching the light and making her look ethereal..."

          Hound Dog was listening intently, seemingly done with his search. He watched the young male wave his hands about, as if he was mimicking what he was remembering.

          "She captured my attention, and it was like ... like I wanted to be her. She was smiling and having so much fun, like she was made of confidence..." he trailed off and sighed dreamily. "It was a night I never forgot ... and I was so excited to show off to my mom- I was twirling and dancing about the whole time until she finally returned, a huge smile on her face as she congratulated me, but … knowing what I know now, I’m thinking she was hiding how upset she was..." He slouched back, wiping some tears from his face as he looked up at Hound Dog, finally meeting his gaze ... and realizing just how massive he is.

          "Just look where you are now: A skater for almost a decade; numerous awards; fans all over; and now you’re attending one of the best schools in Japan, regardless of whether you want to be a hero or not. And you think your mom is upset with your choices?”

          "Sometimes I think she…” Aaron couldn’t bring himself to finish his thought.

          "What if I told you that smile she had when you first discovered ice skating was genuine?”

          Aaron was confused all over again, cocking his head and asking the counselor what he meant.

          "Your mom clearly loves you dearly, whether she had you only to fulfill a fantasy or not, she didn’t interfere with your choice to become a skater. If it took her adopting Faian to change, then it only shows just how uncommitted she was to that delusion and how much she wanted you to become your own person.” Hound Dog went back to his computer, bringing up his original search, but he wasn’t done sharing with Aaron.

          “U.A. is a school of opportunities; we prepare students for a variety of careers ranging from heroics to business to design. Parents often try to control their children by choosing the choices they present them. Yes, your mom didn’t start off as a regular parent, much less a good one, but she obviously wants to rectify that and let you be you, whatever you may choose to be. She likely abandoned her plan as soon as she saw those bright blue eyes of yours open for the first time. Do you think she would have gone back to school to support you? Or let someone else take care of you when she wanted a very specific outcome?”

          At this point, Aaron was beginning to doubt everything, again, unsure of what to make of his life. On the one hand, his mother did only have him out of a grand delusion, possibly faking all the times she was happy when he wanted to do anything other than heroics, but on the other… She actually loved him and wanted him to write his own story, doing everything she could to fix her mistake and prioritize him.

          He didn’t know which version seemed more real.

          “She probably would've trained you and it is far too common for parents to force their ideals and beliefs onto their children. And what happens then? Maybe the child will be like they wanted, a puppet they alone control and empower to stroke their own egos, or perhaps that child grows up aloof and imbittered, doing all they can to further distance themselves from their heritage. There will always be a point when the child will question the decisions, the abuse, the hate, but whether they do anything about it is impossible to say.”

          Aaron was shocked at what Hound Dog was saying. He had always thought of himself as a burden, and when he learned about his father and the circumstances regarding his birth, he felt as if everyone would be better off without him. But after everything he’d heard, Aaron couldn’t believe just how wrong he had been, and how right Hound Dog is.

          “You, however… We are all given the power to choose, but rarely can we choose our choices. What's stopping you now is doubt, doubt that you’re good enough, doubt that you matter. That doubt is holding you back and eating away at all that you could be. Your mom changed, your brother loves you, and the only reason you think otherwise is because you don’t talk to them. Now, I’ve found what I was looking for, but I want you to reflect on what I said for a few moments.”

          Aaron was speechless, his mouth agape. Was he truly that afraid? Was he so full of self-doubt that he blinded himself to the truth? But … there was still the matter of Faian. He thought he felt jealous… Jealous not just of his powerful Quirk, but of his technique and knowledge and determination and and and…

          Jealous of how he always brought smiles to the faces of those he helped…

          "Hound Dog ... what about ... Faian?"

          He paused for a moment as he was turning his computer screen. "Faian. What about him?"

          “Am I really jealous of him?”

          "Hm, on a counseling level, yes, I do think you are jealous of him.” Aaron frowned but it quickly changed to intrigue as Hound Dog continued, “But on a personal level, I think you’re jealous of what he represents.”

          "So, it’s not that I’m jealous of him and the things he can do, I’m jealous of the fact that he’s a … s-symbol…” Aaron stumbled around that last part, but before it could be questioned, he hastily asked “But isn’t jealousy wrong?”

          "Hm… Well, that's really up to you. It's okay to be jealous, healthy even, in small doses. It can inspire you to better yourself, to reflect on what you have and what you can do to improve yourself and others, but if you let it control you? If all you want to do is be better than him and prove that you are the one who should be getting the attention, then you risk hurting the ones you love as you go to further extremes to do so.”

          "No, I don't ... I don't want to be better than him... I just want to know what I can… I just want to be able to help and know that I am capable of it.”

          "In order to do that, you’ll need to work on your confidence. If you don’t think you can do something, why should someone else think you can? Here, I think now is the time to show you.” He beckoned Aaron to the turned monitor, pulling up a video.

          The thumbnail was of a kid, smiling and holding up a pair of signed ice-skating shoes. It must have been recorded on a computer webcam, since the kid looked like he was in a bedroom with posters on the wall…

          Posters of ice skaters, and the most common ones featured a young male with blond hair, red in the more recent ones.

          "So, I know I'm not supposed to be on here after my bedtime, but I just wanted to thank Aaron Granchester for saying hi to me at the State Championships!!! He was just like ... like ahh..." The young boy struggled to describe his feelings or what he had seen, but he was shouting in excitement, nearly falling out of his seat as he gushed. "So cool!! The way he skated and moved on the ice! The way he just had fun and smiled and and and just- Everything was so awesome!! Here, we even took a picture with him! I'll be back!" And he scurried off camera.

          As the video played, Aaron teared up, one hand over his mouth in surprise as the other pulled at the hem of his uniform. He sobbed softly, staring into the kid's eyes, recognizing the look he had … for it was the same one he had over a decade ago. He looked down, trying to collect himself in the few seconds the child had ran off.

          The boy returned and held up his mother’s tablet, the one Aaron remembered her holding as her son ran up to ask him for a photo. On its screen was a picture of him kneeling next to the boy, a huge grin on both their faces. "Look! Can you guys see? He's so cool and amazing!! Everyone likes him, well, not everyone and they’re wrong but still! He’s just the best and- Ahhh!!!!” He beamed with joy. "So friggin’ awesome!!"

          "Language, Trance!"

          The boy gasped before shouting back "Sorry mom!" as he looked to the side then back at the camera. "But yeah … I wanna be just like him when I grow up!!! He even gave me his skates and signed them for when I fit in them! I can’t wait to start practicing!!!”

          Hound Dog paused the video, the boy’s massive grin and shining eyes frozen on the screen.

          Aaron knew what he was talking about, he remembered that day. It was the State Championships… and he had just won 1st place.

---

Hope you all enjoy part 2/3 this week! One more to go, then we’ll be bringing back Adamance of a Dragon!

[ariadne-mouse]

In all seriousness, though, about Harry's diary - I don't think it's from when he worked with the team in S2-S4. I like to think it's from post-S4, after Harry returned to Earth 2.

Harry would have a lot of processing to do after his brain was altered by the Thinking Cap. Writing is a common therapy technique, and Harry would definitely be in need of ways to navigate his new situation. We saw him for just one scene after his intelligence was partially restored, and it was understandably infused with simple relief and joy from everyone - but what about after? What about picking up the pieces of his old life on Earth 2, which would no doubt have significant challenges? He certainly wouldn't have been able to stay acting CEO of STAR Labs there. And we now know from his holocube to Cisco in 6x11 that at some point, he started working on fully restoring his brain. These are all big things! And healing is messy. Harry would be in for an intense journey - mentally, physically, emotionally.

The diary could be one of his strategies to process and heal. It could be a place to write down his feelings, make notes he doesn't want to forget, keep track of progress, express frustrations, record goals and ideas and successes, to vent and feel and get whatever was in his head on paper.

As for why it ended up on Earth 1? Maybe once it was full, he sent it to Cisco. Cisco, who is his best friend, who he knows loves him, and who he loves in return. A message sent across the literal multiverse to show Cisco how much Harry still cares about him, and wants to stay connected. Sharing something like that would be an immense expression of trust and vulnerability.

Then, how did it end up in the Starchives for Nash to abscond with? Well, I'm guessing that after Crisis, and Harry's death, it became an incredibly painful thing for Cisco to hold onto. A constant reminder of who he'd lost. So he put it somewhere he hoped it would be safe, but where he wouldn't have to see it all the time.

But maybe, just maybe, by some quirk of the new universe, Harry will be back. And if so, you bet he'll start working on The Diary of Harrison "Harry" Wells, Volume II.

[alchemist-shizun]

Nothing changes

Word Count: 1,456

Character(s): Roman

Pairing(s): None

Warning(s): Self-deprecation, toxic parenting, negative thinking, toxic relationship implied

Summary: So. Roman couldn't take all those subtle insults anymore. And what could he do about it? Apart from waiting it out until he could live by himself, absolutely nothing.

A/N: Hope you don't mind a vent fic

✾

Middle school.

Roman had been one of the lucky kids.

Not necessarily liked by every single one of his classmates, but not much disliked by them at all. Bullying hadn't bothered him in any of his school years, in fact he wasn't even sure it happened that frequently in their institute.

He had his fair share of friends, his grades were all pretty high, apart from the occasional maths test impossible to comprehend, he had an older sister that minded her own business and parents that assured him a decent lifestyle.

He didn't have much to worry about, only the normal teenage dilemmas.

« What's that? »

« Huh? »

« You have something on your face. »

Only the normal teenage dilemmas.

Roman had been up for less than an hour, talking wasn't exactly his best skill at that moment, but otherwise, he would have angered his father if he stayed silent, which was the last thing he needed as he was the one to take him to school.

« It's a mole. » no matter how many times he told him, his dad never remembered he had a mole on top of the bridge of his nose. He always said he had a dirty spot.

« No, not that one. » the man pointed his finger on his forehead.

Roman reached and found an uneven spot on his skin. Oh god no, not now. Why did puberty have to hate teens like that?

Well, what did he have to do about it?

His father returned to his newspaper reading on his phone and didn't give out any input: Roman guessed he had to fix it by doing nothing and wait for it to disappear.

Only that, it didn't disappear. It spread into many others along his face and he slowly developed the urge to press them all, to which, eventually, he gave in.

Of course, his dad's derision wasn't late to the party either.

Every single bit of interaction they had ultimately focused on some part of Roman's body he didn't like, anything that wasn't exactly perfect was his ideal easy target. And it wasn't like Roman could disagree, what he said were simple facts that subtly left him feeling offended.

That little speck of time they spent together in the morning before and during their car ride to the school, lunch, dinner, the only times they were around each other were enough of a reason for some criticizing to take place.

He felt his pride sink down with every word, but he hung on his sister's words. « It's normal, he was like that with me, too. »

That meant he was going to stop, right?

He told himself way too many times that his arguments with his father were simple routine during his age for him to believe it anymore.

High-school.

« So, how did it go? » Roman's mother was sleeping on the couch, while his dad sat next to her, brand new iPad in his hands.

Why, you actually care?

« It went well, our art teacher is hilarious. » he eyed him while eating some pasta his mum had cooked as he was coming home. His father got up to get ready for work again.

« Yeah? »

« Mhm. He- » Roman smiled as he was talking. Bad decision, he shouldn't have done that.

The man narrowed his eyes at him. « Wait. » he got closer and basically inspected his face, demanding him to keep his mouth open as if he were at the dentist.

Even with no audience to see that scene, that was one of the most embarrassing things he asked him to do. Suddenly, he was reminded of that one time he had started to sniff his hair like some kind of dog, trying to prove the point that he smelled bad instead of simply saying "hey, take a shower". 

« Can't you see your teeth are a bit crooked? »

« I've had braces for five years. »

« I know, but I still don't think they're, you know, perfect. » he marked the last word with emphasis as if he didn't actually mean that word.

« Whatever. » Roman added in a low tone, defeated by yet another imperfection he couldn't fix. It wasn't like that wasn't the first time he told him that.

« What? » his dad's eyes grew hard.

Fix it, you idiot.

Panic rose in his chest, his heartbeat increased and he felt his mind racing. All for an insignificant answer.

« Ah. Nothing important. »

His father eyed the clock and fled the scene as he noticed he was getting late. Shortly thereafter, his mother would have followed.

It went like that for literal years.

His hair, his face, his teeth, his body, his fingers. He talked and his father never listened, he only focused on something to pick on him. Something he could use to graze his self-esteem away bit by bit.

Until nothing about him really appealed him anymore. Until Roman started avoiding mirrors by instinct, until he tried to cover everything with makeup but eventually failed cause he never had enough time.

Until he stopped saying "thank you" to compliments and instead started disagreeing. "I don't believe you", "That's not true", "You're talking about yourself".

He forgot how to accept people's love, which led to him having a twisted version of it in his mind. When his first boyfriend arrived, he thought being more mocked than appreciated was the normality for everybody. He thought having "I hate you" being told to him instead of "I love you" was fine. That the only time his boyfriend ever meant he sincerely loved him had to be in very rare and extreme circumstances and he didn't even remember when that had happened last. 

And when he stopped talking to him for days as punishment since he got annoyed at Roman for simply existing, Roman believed he deserved it and coexisted with the anxiety and anguish while waiting for him to come back.

It took him almost two years to recover from that, at least partially. 

Two years to be able to love again and know better.

But his father didn't stop. Sure, he might have slowed down, but never ceased to point out the first thing that came in his mind. 

Roman developed anxiety at the sole thought of them being in the same room, of his dad stomping his feet while going up the stairs, of when he opened a door with that usual loud noise. His almost constant yelling. Him creeping up behind him to read his messages, him sitting next to or in front of Roman during meals. His father just being there with his forever angered presence.

« Why does your face look like that? »

God please why, I'm just eating, leave me alone, just go to work I beg you.

Roman shrugged. 

« Have you looked in a mirror? » as a matter of fact, no. « You're full of red spots, you're going to end up with a ruined face. But if that's what you want. »

The only thing I want as of now is ripping my entire face off, thank you very much.

He felt numb, but at the same time a fiery rage rumbled in his stomach. He just had to ... repress it. Like any other time.

In the meantime, his dad had started making a fuss out of it, calling his very tired wife to take a look at his son and "tell him what they had to do to fix that". 

With a knowing look of "yes, I know this is normal, we all went through this when we were young apart form him, apparently", she said nothing and waited for him to stop rambling. 

« Well, whatever. Bye. » and, as fast as he came, he was gone, storming down the stairs to get to his car.

And Roman? 

Well, Roman sat there, ripping apart a slice of bread the way he would have wanted to rip apart either his existence or his own father. That was a choice he would have left to fate. 

He didn't exactly register anything his mother told him, ignoring the same old recording he always went through when it came to his face's imperfections.

He went upstairs and didn't really bother to open the windows or think about the huge amount of studying the had to do.

He laid on his bed in the darkness that his eye adjusted to too quickly. Then, he pulled out his earbuds and drowned himself in music.

The urges he felt and the anger at the pit of his stomach slowly disappeared as he distracted himself with the melodies.

Nothing else really mattered. 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Dear Agony Just let go of me Suffer slowly Is this the way it's got to be? Don't bury me Faceless enemy I'm so sorry Is this the way it's gotta be? Dear Agony

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x9hZFyoqp7Q

Amy and Shachath

The Angel of Death... I told ya’ll Amy has some weird friends XD Including supernatural beings, angels, demons, the freaking Anti-Christ and even Lilith herself... 

However, Amy is pretty chummy with Shachath as they talk often and Amy even shares a cup of tea with her at times. Which is touching, but it’s also... really sad when you think about it. But these two have a somewhat odd friendship/acquaintanceship due to being very familiar with one another and Shachath acts as something of a guardian angel for Amy, just like her daughter Mallory does. Aside from Shinsou, Shachath also understands Amy very much, noting that Amy hides her  feelings of worthlessness, sadness and pain with smiles and laughter as Shachath is almost always behind her in someway because of the pain she feels often.

And just to clarify... my good friend @ambroselaveau90 has the HC that Shachath is Mallory’s mother and I’m going with that cuz I like it~! <3 

Mallory acts as a guardian angel for Amy, and Shachath does the same because well... they’re angels! And they like her <3 

Shachath first appears to Amy during her childhood at Robichaux even after Cordelia is made the new Supreme as the girl began to feel empty and hollow after realizing that not only was she never going to see Shinsou again, but that she lost her parents, her dog, her sisters Madison, Misty and Nan, as well as her mother figures Fiona, Marie Laveau and Myrtle Snow and her good friend Luke. The losses hit her all suddenly as she suffered a mental breakdown, having witnessed so much death in so little time, which is what Shachath explained to her when she first arrived and she notes to the young girl that she was calling for her but Amy had no idea she was doing so. 

The Angel of Death then tells her that sometimes not everyone is aware that they are praying for the pain to end, and Amy confides in her that sometimes she does want the pain to end and Shachath does offer her a way to end the pain, a kiss of death. However, a fearful Amy apologizes and says that she’s not really ready for that, but Shachath is very understanding and tells her that should she ever feel anymore unbearable pain that she can always sing for her again and she’ll come to her. 

As Amy got older, Shachath still follows Amy because of the young witch’s singing as she notes that Amy tends to often sing for her. Although Shachath noted that while Amy did realize the entirety of what she lost, that she hadn’t processed it all and entered a heavy stage of denial until the Sports Festival when her Sentio Compassios was fully awakened. Only when Amy enters the anger stage of her grief is when Shachath feels compelled to go to her. As Amy realized that the pro-heroes abandoned her, she became distraught, confused, horrified, hurt and wild with rage and despair that it led her to going on a rampage on UA. An event that Shachath watched patiently, and she grew worried for the witch when Izuku got the upperhand and pinned her down. She was sympathetic when Amy confessed her feelings, only to get coldly rejected and breaking her heart.

The added pain of heartbreak put a lot of stress on Amy’s physical body, causing her to go into brief cardiac arrest as Shachath arrived and offered to give her the kiss of death to end it all. Amy was more than willing to be kissed because the pain was so great, but Shachath stops upon realizing the power within the witch, as well as the rage and contempt that kickstarted her power into regenerating her heart and kept her body from giving out. Shachath tells Amy that she wasn’t quite ready to go yet and had unfinished business to do. As instead of succumbing to despair, Amy became reinvigorated with a newfound scorn that allowed her to continue fighting Izuku and came close to killing him. Which is partially why Shachath stuck around as she wondered if it would have been Izuku who she would give the kiss of death too. 

In fact, another factor that allowed Amy to cease her attack was seeing Shachath flying beside Izuku, ready to give him the kiss since Amy came dangerously close to crushing him. Which horrified her when she realized how badly she was hurting him, and it allowed her to stop. Although it’s implied that this was a ploy by Shachath to prevent Amy from killing the boy to spare her from committing something she would regret and to save Izuku from a painful death. 

Afterwards, Shachath remained by Amy’s side as she quit UA and isolated herself in her mansion due to the anger, hatred, depression and despair she felt towards herself and her former teachers and classmates. Due to Amy’s fluctuating emotions ranging between anger, despair and mainly emotional pain, Shachath kept her company and stood by just in case Amy truly did want to end it all. Amy kept Shachath in mind and frequently spoke to her and turned to her for advice, especially when it came to forgiveness about herself, with Shachath comforting her and reassuring her each and every time, even telling her that love is painful but it only means that she is a human with a strong capacity to feel love for people. 

Although she also remained neutral about Amy’s choices, noting that whatever she chooses that Shachath will not judge her and would remain her friend no matter what she did. 

And as Amy prepares to go rescue her friends and her teacher during the War Arc, she asks the angel if she will stay with her since Amy secretly hoped that she would die during the rescue. Shachath kindly tells her that she will be by her side the entire time if she does want to die, but also gives her advice on how to beat Shigaraki.

Amy: You’ll be with me... right? I mean... Shigaraki’s really strong now... stronger than ever before... I’m not afraid. Honestly I’m not, I don’t even care if I come out of it alive or not, but... if he does manage to kill me... will you be there?

Shachath: Oh child... as long as you call for me, I will always be there. As I have said before... if you need me to. I will save you. 

In the present times, Amy and Shachath are still good friends, and while Amy has slowly gotten better overtime, Shachath still does come by every now and then due to Amy relapsing into her depression, including during her second year when she begins to doubt herself and spirals back into the verge of a breakdown. Shachath would be at her side and still give her the offer of the kiss of death, but since Amy gained more of a support system, the witch oncemore decline with Shachath being nothing  but understanding. As she was touched by Amy’s new friendships, especially her friendship with Ashlen, another person she had seen before and had been ‘sung’ for. 

However, Shachath did tell Amy that she wants to save her from her pain in the near future when death is inevitable. A sentiment that oddly touches Amy as she tells her that she wouldn’t want anyone else to steal her away from a painful death.

At one point Amy asks Shachath if she gets tired of waiting for her to make her decision, but because the Angel of Death has grown fond of Amy, she reassures her and tells her that she isn’t annoyed with her and is merely there to be a listening ear for her. A benevolent Grim Reaper, Shachath sometimes even offers advice to Amy and lets her vent about what is making her upset and listens to her without any judgement. Because Shachath gained an understanding towards Amy, she at times can also talk her out of death by reminding her of her friends and loved ones which often tends to make Amy reconsider.

However, like many a person suffering from depression, there are moments where Amy cannot see or think about her loved ones as she just wonders and contemplates suicide with Shachath almost always showing up during these moments.

I feel nothing anymore...

[mcmasonatdalton]

you can tell me {mcsnickers}

CHARACTERS: Mason McCarthy and @duvaldomnick​

SUMMARY: After baiting for attention with a skimpy photo on the internet, Nick orders Mason to his room thinking he just scheduled just a regular, casual dick appointment and they’re both surprised when based on their conversation, sex isn’t on the menu. {Quick recap on their relationship so far: Nick and Mason were fuck buddies for a long while before Dalton, for the purpose of venting their D/s needs. There is a trusted connection built there and when they are in scenes they talk about belonging to each other because it’s what makes them feel good while they’re in Sub and Dom head spaces with each other, but they haven’t had any kind of conversation like that outside of scene talk. They have never been exclusive, even if they sound like it.}  tw because this gets into Mason talking about sexual D/s based abuse

NICK: ((When Mason arrived this morning)) Get your ass in here. On your knees.

MASON: Yes'Sir. Sounds like someone's in trouble.

NICK: Good boy. Well, it is now 5 in the morning, and you've already admitted to baiting me, to sate your needs...Tell me, what could those possibly be at this hour? Tell me Mason, how are you feeling?

MASON: Lucky me, we're both awake, huh?

I need you, Sir. I feel like after all the work I've been doing, I want it to be time for me. I want you. I want your attention. I want you to touch me. I want to be here.

NICK: Good boy, Bunny. You answered perfectly. I'll give you what you want, and what you need. You have been working so hard, haven't you? You're right, you deserve a break. Good thing it's Saturday morning, hmm? Tell you what, Mason. All those plans you had for this weekend. Cancel them. Then, hands in front of you, wrists together.

MASON: Yes, Sir. May I turn my phone of or hand it to you for after that for the weekend? Because I know I'll get texts from people, telling me I shouldn't cancel. I know I can and I trust you, I want to be here, but I don't want.. that. Done.

NICK: Good boy, Bunny. I know it's hard for you not to argue with me on this. I see you, trusting me. I've got you. Yes, I'll take your phone, until I release you. I'll put it on silent, but I won't turn it off in case of an emergency. I won't let anything else touch you. There we go. I'm going to bind your wrists. I'll have you kneel, head bowed, for two minutes while you settle that anxiety over the texts you just sent. After that, I'll give you your rules for the weekend. Let me know when you're ready, and if you need more than two minutes.

MASON: You know me so well, Sir.... I hope you don't wonder why I'd come to you. Why I need you. I'll be quiet now, Sir.

NICK: Of course I do, Mase. I do pay attention to things, when I'm inclined to do so. Shhhhhhh. I'm here, babe. Right here. Take all you need, I've got plenty to give. You don't have to be quiet, Bunny. I don't like how that sounded. Where are you?

MASON: I know you do. I know you. I pay attention too. I'm sorry. I think it's just the difference between having someone to tell me at all times whether I was doing well or not and vividly instructing me on how to fix it if I wasn't doing well enough to being so independent. I'm feeling very unsteady.. just.. I don't know.. unsure.

NICK: I can bet you do, but that's a conversation for another day. I can't imagine how hard that must be, Bunny. I know you're struggling. But it's okay, there's nothing wrong with that. You're doing a whole new thing, one I'm proud of you for. And you're doing it so well. But, part of my job is making sure I'm honest with you. And while we're not....Another responsibility I take very seriously is the one that says a Dominant involved in any way with a Submissive is partially responsible for them and their mental state. Unless you've been spending time with anyone else, recently, that's me. I see you, working your ass off, and I have to wonder when you find the time to sleep, eat, or even breathe. Thank you for sharing with me, Bunny. Thank you for communicating. We'll fix this, I'll fix this. If you feel unsteady, Mase, hold onto me. Trust me to carry you, to not let you fall. Because I will carry you, and I won't let you fall. Breathe for me. Anything else you need to say before I give your rules?

MASON: Sir... I appreciate you so much. I'm not spending time with anyone else, no. A few people showed interest in me sexually when I first showed up but they all disappeared when I didn't have the time to hand them my ass immediately. I know.. you're not the relationship type and I'm too busy to really, honestly commit myself to someone else but I want you to know that I'm not out with other people. And it doesn't matter if you are. I know you. I know you appreciate me. I don't... really have time. You're right. I've never had time but now I've added carving out a spot for myself here to everything. It is a lot. But I'm like, totes capable. You call me Bunny for a reason, Sir. I trust you. I know you will, I am leaning on you. I know you will carry me and keep me safe. I'm okay. I'm ready to hear my rules, Sir.

NICK: There's my good boy; I'm proud of you, Mase. Those were all big admissions, and I see that. I won't let any of it go overlooked. They did, did they? That's perfectly fine, it's only because they don't know you like I do. They don't know how special you are. What a good boy you are. We understand each other, and our positions. Though, I won't lie and say I don't like knowing that. In a way. What I'm hearing you say, Mase, is that you're struggling to maintain a healthy schedule for yourself, now that you feel you don't have anyone to give you that added direction. And that's alright, too. That doesn't make you any less capable, or any less perfect. I see that, and I'll remind you of that. But what I won't have, Mason, is you panicking about telling me you might need some help, and making up for that by forcing yourself to remind me, and your own self, that you can handle it. You came to me for a reason, Bunny. Good, keep leaning. Let it all out, let it all go. I've got you. Very good. Alright. Stand up, and come sit in my lap. I want to hold you while we go over these. Rule 1 you already know- no plans outside of me, us, and this suite. No phone. No outside influences. No distractions. The world does not exist beyond these walls, unless and until I say otherwise. Rule 2. You will give yourself over to me, completely- as far as you're comfortable with. This will be a TPE weekend. Rule 3. Your hands will remain bound most of the time. The binding is loose, so you're able to move around comfortably when you need. I will remove it in certain instances as well. This means I will feed you, dress you, and bathe you. This also means you'll need to make certain you're being as vocal as possible about your feelings and needs. I'll need to know every detail, to keep you as safe and well taken care of as possible. Can you these things for me, Bunny?

MASON:Always your good boy, Sir. Thank you. You're right, I did come to you for a reason. I know you. I knew what you would say. I'll do as you say, Sir. I always do. Yes, Sir. I think your lap might be my favorite place, do you know that? Yes, yes, and yes. Sir. I can do all of that. I like that too. Thank you. I feel better already, I know that everything will be good. We're chill. This is good. I'm good. You're good. You're so sweet to me, Nick...

NICK: Say that again, Bunny. Say it again for me. Say it until you remember it. Until it comes as easily as my name rolling off your tongue. You are my good boy. No need to thank me. Alright. So, next time, what are we going to do as soon as we start feeling this way? You always do. Is it? Good boy. If anything else comes up, I'll let you know. Good, I'd hoped you would. It will be. I'll take care of you, my boy. Shhh. This isn't about me, babe. Now, I want you to tell me what time you went to bed last night, and what time you woke up this morning. I also want to know everything you've done today, and I want to know what you've eaten. Stay here, in my arms, while you tell me. I'm not judging, but I need to know what to focus on with you right now.  You're safe, Bunny. I'm listening.

MASON: Always your good boy, Sir. You have... no idea how good that sounds to me. I could say next time I'll post another skimpy pic at 5am, but I think you want me to learn a better way to get what I want and need from you. I could message you instead, Sir. Just..  tell you. I trust you. I still want you to know that I appreciate you, that I see you. Babe. I went to bed at 5:30am after joining Hunter at the pool for laps and I was up for cheerleading practice at 7am. I laid down a few times during the day, but not to sleep, I had other things to do. I drank a Monster before and after practice, then hit the gym for my own workout and run, Sir. I left campus for a little while to check in with Madison and my parents, and there's a guy- one of my parent's friends- that needed a few things from me. I wasn't done with all of that until the pm hours, and I had some granola on yogurt with Madison and she sent me off with some protein bars. I had a photoshoot and interview about the volunteer work I'm doing here at Dalton and then I came back on campus. I helped the janitors out a little bit-- I walked by and one of them was having trouble on his own, Sir. I got stopped a few times on my way back to my place. Not that anyone stopped me, but I stopped myself because people needed help in little ways like that. Then it was time for cheer again, so I ate one of the protein bars and led the team, followed by the gym again. I had paperwork to do to get myself settled here with administration and before I knew it, it was time to head out for that swim and when I got back to my place... well, here we are. You know the rest.

NICK: Yeah? Well, we can talk about that just a little later on. I'll remember it, and I'll bring it back up. You're exactly right, I do want you to know you don't have to degrade yourself like that to catch my attention. Whether I act it or not, you already have it. There we go. Message me, I'll make sure you're taken care of. Thank you, Mase. You're sweet, babe. Thank you for being honest with me, Bunny. So, let's walk through this a little more. I'm still here, I'm still listening, and I've still got you. You got an hour and a half of sleep last night, is what I'm hearing. Why? How long were your practices? How did your visit home go? I don't want to pry, but it's important for me to know exactly what type of physical exertion you've had today. Are you comfortable telling me what you did for your parents' friend? Did you drink any water today at all? You're so very helpful, Mase. You're a beautiful person. Your want to help is incredible, but I'm going to work with you on better recognizing when you have that kind of energy to give others, okay? How long were you in the gym? How many miles did you run? How many laps did you swim?

MASON: Yes, Sir. I know you will, you're good at that; remembering. You.. Sir.. I'll keep that in mind. I know you will, you always have. You know.. I don't let anyone else call me that... Yes, Sir. An hour and a half was all of the time I had to spare. I had so much to do yesterday that I didn't make it back until about 5am, and Hunter had talked about being out in the pool around that time and had asked/offered for me to join him; more or less. I don't do it every morning, but sometimes. Morning practice is more of a workout, we go for two hours. Evening practice is more like a rehearsal. We warm up and then work on routines. That went for three hours today. Going home went well, actually. My parents are pleased with the addition of Dalton to my schedule. Madison is still not happy that I moved out, but I'm sure I'll break through to her. She was pissy because she knew I was busy with that Dom-- not that she knew who it was, but she knew I left home to go there. Don't worry about prying, Sir. My answers are yours, that's part of the point here. He needed some help getting his house together while his friends were over, he just wanted to show off. Things got kind of physical too. I had water, yeah. I carry a bottle with me. Yes, Sir. I trust you. Of course. I spent an hour and a half in the gym, and I ran two miles with the team. Hunter is a boss, like... I don't know if you've noticed but damn. We raced on five laps a few times.

NICK: Good boy. Hold onto that for me, too. I mean it, Mase. I don't ever want you thinking that you need to offer someone ass in an attempt to get them to care about you. You don't? Good boy, thank you for being honest with me. I'm sorry that your sister is unhappy. But, I don't want you to let that hinder your progress. You're doing just fine, Mase. Thank you for saying that, Bunny. Good boy. Why haven't you told your sister who he is? Interesting. Things got physical? While his friends were there? Talk to me, Bunny. A refillable bottle? Good boy, keep trusting me. Oh, my busy bee. How are you feeling, Mase?

MASON: I will, Sir. Nick. You.. I.. I don't, no. That's for you. It's special to me. Yes, Sir. Of course. You need my honesty, I totes get it. I'm sorry too, but it's okay. She'll get over it. She will. She's just worried about me doing my best. I haven't told her because it would be weird, I think. He's a friend of our parents so like... he's supes old. To me, at least. ...Yeah. A refillable bottle, yes. I will, of course. I always trust you. Yours. I'm tired, but awake. I'm not sure if I've done enough, I had some things left to do. But at the same time, you've been calling me good and I could sit here all night. I feel better than I did before I got here, Sir. Because of you.

NICK: Mine. I like that. Good boy, you always understand. You're a smart boy, too. That's a good way to look at it. Such a kind perspective, Mase. Have you told anyone other than me, Bunny? Can we talk a little more about that, babe? Are you comfortable with that? Very good, I'm proud of you for making sure you're drinking water. I see that, you know. You, calling yourself mine. I'm not mad. You've done more than enough today, Mason. That's final. The rest can wait. Look at me, Bunny. Focus on my eyes. Give me your hand. The world will not stop turning if you take a break, if you lighten your load. I've called you good because you are good- so, so fucking good. We can do that, if you want to. I'll hold you all day, no matter what. Good, you'll feel even better than this before the day is over. I've got you Mason. I'm right here.

MASON: And you didn't even have to ask for it. Thank you, I try to. I'm glad you think so. No, I haven't. We can, yeah. There isn't really much I'd ever say no to you for. I'm comfortable with you. Mmmm.

Thank you. Yeah? What of it? Not mad is good. Yes, Sir. I trust you on that. And I won't be doing anything except what you tell me to do until Monday. Gladly. Yes, Sir. I see you, I feel you. I.. it's hard for me, but I trust you. I don't want to lose everything I've worked so hard for or disappoint anyone. Thank you, Sir. You're so sweet, I'll get spoiled you know. Maybe I already am. You're perfect. Thank you.

NICK: I didn't. I know that, you make this so easy. You haven't for the same reason? Good to know, but I'm still going to ask. Your comfort is my priority, Bunny. So, let's talk about it. What do you mean when you say things got physical? Nothing of it, it's just not something....I hear, every day. I'll make sure you won't be. Very good. I know it's hard for you, babe. But when things are hard, that only means you're growing. It isn't always pretty or easy, but it's needed. And I'm right here, to walk you through it. What makes you think that could ever possibly be true? What's got you anxious about something like that happening? Good, maybe I want you spoiled. Not nearly. Me? Not even close Bunny. You know that better than anyone. Don't thank me for that.

MASON: Easy is good. Mostly, yeah. He asked me not to talk to people about him. You're not people though, you're Nick. Like I mentioned before, I think he just wanted to show off. He tested me, making it harder for me to do the cleaning. ..I don't want to tell you that he came but I don't want to keep that from you either, Sir. We didn't fuck though. Do you like it? Do you want to hear it every day? I know you will, Sir. This is what I mean by perfect, you know just what to say to me. To do for me. You know me. You get me. Why wouldn't it be true? There are plenty of other people that would love to take my place. Even just my spot at Dalton is hotter than I thought. I don't know, I just have high expectations of myself and sometimes I get really anxious. Just maybe?

That wasn't your fault.

NICK: With you? It is. He did? That's...Interesting. You're right Bunny. You can tell me anything. In front of his friends, huh? And let me guess- they were all Dominants, too? It's okay, Mase. You can tell me anything, remember? We can talk about that later, babe. Let's keep the focus on you right now, hmmm? You're such a gorgeous focal point. It's basic, Mason. Being a decent human being doesn't deserve to be called perfection. You matter. You matter to the world, and you matter to me. Because, no matter how many hours you work a day, Mase, there will never be anything close to a replacement for you. You are incredibly utterly unique, in every sense of the word. You are a force to be reckoned with, and no one else is even close to capable of doing what you do. What do you mean by that, Mase? I know you do, I see you. That's something I want to work on, too. When you're ready. I don't want you to be anxious around me. Consider this your safe space, my boy. What, did you want to hear definitely? It's the truth. You give me too much credit, Bunny. But I promise...Nothing like that will ever happen again.

MASON: It is. You're right, yeah. I know I can, which is why I do. Stubborn. Yes, Sir. Nick...

NICK: ...How long has this been going on, Mason. Good. Keep it up. I am, yes. Yes, Mase? Use your pretty words, baby.

MASON: I've been helping him out for a couple of years, but it's been about a year since it first started to get like this. You make me feel a lot of things, Sir. If I use my pretty words I'm liable to make a fool out of myself.

NICK: Thank you for sharing with me, Bunny. You're a good boy, did you know? I need to make sure you know that. You couldn't possibly. I want to hear it all, Mase. Now, I want you to wrap those gorgeous legs around my waist. I'm going to carry you to the bedroom, and I'm going to hold you until food arrives. I'll strip you, too.

MASON: Of course, Sir. You don't have to thank me. I want to be honest with you. I'm glad you think so. Yes, Sir. Legs wrapped. Gladly. This sounds exciting, I can't wait.

NICK: I do, Mason. I know that was big. I'm so proud of you, babe. Good boy. I want you excited, in the best ways. Just relax, let someone take care of you for once. Here we go. I'll undo those bindings once I lay you down. While I'm stripping you, I'll kiss every inch of your beautiful body.

MASON: You make me feel proud too, Sir. My big, strong hero. I'll let you take care of me. That sounds nice. For me and for you too; you know what they say about cheerleaders. You know how addicted I am to your lips and your kisses. I even stole one without an order, which I'm just now realizing. I just wanted it really badly.

[rxcusant]

i hastily wrote out a weird vent drabble thing with vanitas the other night and i debated on letting it collect dust or posting it but since im here i think the answer is obvious gfdjhk  enjoy this weird post kh3 thing, or dont, i wont tlel you what to do

also emetophobia tw

_________________________

     It’s disgusting.      Like some hideous creature from a nightmare.      Utterly revolting and rotting.      It’s disgusting.

     Vanitas never considered himself human. He knew he was an abomination. This form was perfect for him. Ghost-like with wisps of darkness constantly wafting off his body like smoke. Two sharp glowing red eyes that looked less like eyes and more like beady orbs. He didn’t have a mouth, not a normal one, but rather the inky mass of darkness split in a gooey mess that gave way to a mouth. Pulsing bright red veins encompassed his body all stemming from the familiar heart pattern on his torso. In place of normal fingers were elongated sharp claws tipped the same shade of red.

     There wasn’t anything human about him. This is what a monster should look like.

     But it’s no good if he doesn’t continue to play the part of a monster. Monsters are fit for scaring little children sleeping in their beds. Awaiting good dreams that will never come. What better target than the boy he’s forced to share a heart with? What better use for those claws than to sink into his dreams and stain them black with nightmares? What better use for a monster who breaks everything they touch?

     It’s not just his dreams either. A real monster will continue to pick and pull apart leaving scars in their wake. Sora’s scars were emotional and mental as Vanitas day in and out terrorizes him. It’s thanks to him that Vanitas is stuck under Xehanort’s thumb again. If Sora hadn’t been so stupid and played right into enemys hands none of this would be happening! As Vanitas reminds him every day. You’re stupid. You’re a fool. You’re going to fade into nothing as every trace of you is erased by Xehanort. There won’t be anything left to save. 

     If Sora never became their vessel Vanitas wouldn’t have to look like such a hideous creature. If Sora never became their vessel Vanitas would’ve continued sleeping in the depths of his heart. He wouldn’t have to wake up and live with the constant negativity. He wouldn’t have to listen to Master Xehanort. He wouldn’t have to exist.

     It’s all his fault.

     It’s disgusting.

_________________________

      He woke with a sharp gasp and hands around his throat. Wide eyes trained on the ceiling that he wasn’t sure he recognized at first. Amid heavy breathing Vanitas waited for his eyes to adjust and for his heart to stop pounding to realize it’s Ven’s room. 

      Swallowing hard he turned his head to the side to see none other than Ven sleeping beside him. the blonde had the same peaceful expression he must’ve had for the past decade- not that Vanitas would know, being trapped within Sora’s heart the whole time- and it vexed Vanitas to know even when in his sleep Ven had it easier. But he didn’t have it in him to continue that train of thought.

     Slowly the memories pieced themselves back together. He jumped into Ven’s bed mainly to piss him off (and snicker whats yours is mine with a cheeky grin) but it backfired when Ven groaned and crawled in to sleep anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time they shared a bed and it wouldn’t be the last. And Vanitas would never admit it aloud but the only place he could sleep properly was next to his other half. Chalk it up to a natural harmony between the halves of their shared heart. He’d rather that than hurting himself to the point of exhaustion or simply not sleeping at all. Vanitas personally preferred the latter but neither Ven or the new replica body wouldn’t let him pull any more all nighters.

     Sitting up in bed Vanitas pulled his knees close and just breathed. In, one two three. He was in Ven’s room with Ven beside him. Out, one two three. He’s not trapped in Sora’s heart who’s trapped in the Organization with Xehanort watching over them. In, one two three. He’s safe.

     ...Safe. What did that even mean for someone like him?

     Out, one two three.

     What right did he have to a comfortable life like this? Vanitas tried to take down Ven and his friends multiple times-- with no guilt or remorse either. On top of that he actively contributed to making Sora’s life a living hell in the Organization. He knew deep down inside nobody wanted him around. They would rather him dead than sleeping safe and sound in their home.

     Maybe Vanitas would rather that too.

     Gritting his teeth Vanitas buried his face into his hands. In, one two. Out, one two. In, one. Out, one. This isn’t working, it’s useless. What was the point in pretending he could ever be like the rest of them? He’s disgusting, a vile creature. A monster had no right to sleep soundly like the children they’re meant to scare.

     Said children should stay asleep. Ven stirred and cracked open his eyes. “...Vanitas?” He said groggily. He blinked slow and only seemed partially aware of Vanitas hyperventilating. 

     He didn’t want to look at Ven, not right now. But if he didn’t do or say something Ven would only start interrogating him. So Vanitas picked his head up and stared down into his palms. For a moment it’s alright. The black hands giving way to long claws was normal. He got used to staring at them from within Sora’s heart.

     It’s remembering he’s not inside Sora’s heart anymore that startled him to the point of falling off the bed. 

      With a thud Vanitas hit the ground and let out a grunt. It wasn’t particularly painful, as if pain could phase him anymore, and he sat back up after the impact. Which was a bad idea as his stomach immediately protested with a gross churning that sent an unpleasant vibe up his throat. Almost suffocating. Ven made some kind of confused yet concerned noise but that was far from Vanitas’s mind. He knew his feeling and he would rather die than let Ven see what was coming.

      A cough pushed past his lips and Vanitas forced himself to keep it down another moment, slapping a hand over his mouth. He got to his feet and ran out the door with Ven calling out behind him. Normally so precise and calculated Vanitas was running without care for whereever he ended up so long as he was out of sight. Or that’s the idea, as he was only allowed enough time to run by the mercy of the darkness bubbling at his core. And the running only further agitated said core. 

     Vanitas succeeded in making it down the hallway and to a set of stairs but that’s when the awful sensation decided it couldn’t wait any more. He barely reached the stairs, much less going down them, before falling to his hands and knees. He let out a strangled choke as black ooze poured from his mouth and onto the flooring. A few stray drops splattered onto his hands and clothing but that’s hardly a thought or concern in his mind. Vanitas gave a few more coughs  to bring up any leftover black gunk until he deemed the moments passed. Now there was a void in his stomach and an unpleasant light headed feeling.

     And a pair of red eyes blinking back at him in the messy darkness. 

     Much like hallucinating the return of his claws, that’s normal at first too.

     The darkness slowly begun to rise and shape into an Unversed. The void in his stomach was replaced by a sick repulsion and Vanitas acted upon instinct. Balling his fists he smashed the shape back down into the ground. Stringy and drippy darkness latched onto his hand but Vanitas paid it no mind. He kept punched and bashing the darkness in until the red eyes were completely obliterated. But he didn’t stop then. Not for the ringing traveling up his arm each time his fist impacted, not for the sob wrenched free of his throat, not for the heavy tears spilling.

      Break, destroy, tarnish, it’s all he can do. He’s disgusting. A filthy creature. No normal person vomited up monsters. An abomination at his very core and that would never ever change--!

      “--itas! Just- stop, stop it!”

      There came another hand wrapping around his own. It didn’t do much to stop him from punching the ooze at first but after the first four times they managed to wrangle Vanitas out of his hunched position and keep him from pummeling any more craters. Vanitas let out a snarl and instinctively reared his head back to bash whatever was disturbing him in the middle of his breakdown. Can’t they let him wallow in peace?

      His head connected with the person but that wasn’t enough to stop them. In fact they only tightened their hold on him and pulled him closer, mumbling different words that didn’t yet reach Vanitas’s ears. However Vanitas did see a white checkered wristband and that alone brought forth a confusing surge of emotions. Knowing Ven was there made everything simultaneously better and worse. Better because if anyone in the castle had to witness his breakdown he would rather it be Ven over Terra and Aqua. Worse because Ven witnessed him in the middle of a breakdown.

     It was obvious Ven wasn’t going to let go so long as he would fight back so Vanitas gave up trying to struggle and just let himself go limp with a defeated sigh. Ven hesitated, likely waiting if this was a fakeout, but when Vanitas didn’t move Ven released him and shifted to the side. He tried making eye contact with his other half but Vanitas didn’t take his gaze off the smashed pile of dark ooze.

      He wanted to ask what happened. That was the obvious question here. But Vanitas refused to look at him much less try to talk. Ven’s eyes traveled to the dark patch on the floor, Vanitas’s hand, and a small trickle of darkness in the corner of his mouth. Didn’t take long for Ven to piece it all together. He let out a faint oh and his hand settled over his mouth, looking at Vanitas with such sad eyes that any other time he would’ve growled at him for. Don’t look at me with such pity.

     “...I-- Vanitas…” Ven trailed off, grasping for the right words. Did the right words for this even exist? What could someone possibly say? Nothing. Monsters didn’t deserve sweet honeyed words of it’s okay, I still care about you. They would only be lies. Words didn’t exist for such a disgusting creature as him.

      But words never came. Ven’s eyebrows furrowed together as he seemed to realize what the other was thinking. He took a moment to weigh what he was about to do, and the consequences whether or not they be more thrashing or insults, before he embraced Vanitas. He held him tight and buried his face into his shoulder. Vanitas could just make out Ven’s uneven breath on his skin.

     Immediately Vanitas wanted to protest. He already didn’t like being touched and an invasion of personal space right after vomiting an Unversed on top of a nightmare was way too much for him. He wanted to make his displeasure known, say or do something, but the words got confused on his tongue and his limbs were frozen. Get away, it’s for your own good, I’ll only hurt you! I break, I destroy, I don’t want to hurt you!

     Neither word or action came. Nothing but heavy tears. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cry in front of Ven but…

     But it’s okay this once since Ven can’t see. He already saw more than Vanitas ever wanted him too. This moment was for the two halves only, momentarily coming together in reassurance. Saying the right words without needing to vocalize them.

     I’ve got you.

[wcamino-confessions]

I submitted this last night but Tumblr ate it

In regards to the Soul drama, I feel mostly anyone who sat down and read those screenshots probably feels the same way I do on it and so I honestly wouldn’t say anything if it weren’t for me needing to vent on this topic. I have felt disappointment in the Warriors Amino Leadership team countless times since I became more involved in the community back in 2017, and time and time again it seems as if it is the personal goal of the LT to prove that they can still find a better way to piss us off. I feel the need to point out that my complaints come from a place of concern and hope rather than an intentional bash on the LT. If I didn’t care (and this goes for many others as well), we probably would have stayed silent and just moved on long ago. Issues like this give me unwelcome reminders of the past issues that led to the current LT’s position as of now. It is the job of the present LT to hold themselves higher than the mistakes of their predecessors, and as things stand this does not seem to be the intention at all. If anything, I see a replay of history that many of us recall without stating as such by name.

Firstly, let’s revisit the quote in regards to why Soul was banned. The screenshot from Vaga that has been shared states this, “Soul was not demoted for voicing his opinion, it was mainly for leaking information-”. I could go write an entire essay on the topic of the WA lt and the insanity that is ‘leaking information’, but I’ll spare any fool who’s decided to read my rage and summarize it simply. What does a leadership team of a murder cat amino hold so dearly that leaks of a genuine discussion in regards to a popular and serious issue on amino will and did count as a leak of information? One of the most off putting and enraging concepts is that somehow this conversation is worth keeping private? I’d understand if it was a private conversation amongst LT members just hanging out or a discussion in regards to the privacy of another user outside of the lt, however this falls under neither. The discussion on the 13+ rule change has been public conversation for some time and something not worthy keeping a secret. Surely the LT hasn’t forgotten that a huge problem members have is their lack of transparency in regards to these situations in the first place? Rule changes and conversations in regards to it have no place being hidden behind lock and key, but that’s a rant for another day.

There was no real private information leaked, unless the LT is speaking on a VC discussion that they do not know nor have any proof in relation to it happening? More on that later. Anyway I feel like it only takes a hint of common understanding to see that Soul was not leaking information. Furthermore, why would the users pester Andro for screenshots if he had shared this so called private information? Where did he share it? Unless this VC was just him venting about the absurd one sidedness of the conversation and his anger towards an issue that affects all of us? But… that would be him being banned for venting so that can’t be? . In the screenshots provided by the LT themselves, we witness an agitated and heated conversation between Soul, Hawk and Andro. The conversation that supposedly made them uncomfortable wasn’t even worthy of apologizing for and I praise Soul for having the guts and passion to speak on something worth discussing. On an amino where accusations and real scenarios of pedophilia run rampant; those in power very much should be held accountable for the situation. This is also a conversation for another day, but Soul and Dark spoke true on a real issue. Only parents, TA and the individual LT have the power to remove underaged members before they potentially put themselves at risk. It’s easy to say that it isn’t the LT’s responsibility, but that’s merely a decision made to run away from a problem. If a stranger lures a child to their car in your vision, it’s not your responsibility to intervene in that situation either, but if that child is hurt because of this decision who is really at fault. I’m not saying who was right or who was wrong in the argument, but instead I’m choosing to prove a point. Soul wasn’t wrong, and the way he worded it was meant to make those reading it understand the true gravity of the decision they were making. Whoever felt guilty did so because there was a reason to. That was the true weight of another conversation that the LT was trying to brush off with a quick and easy majority vote. Clearly they didn’t learn from the situation with Fenris at all. The escape from that situation was blaming Soul for choosing to bring up this obvious point because it made members uncomfortable. I’m sorry to say but as leaders responsible for managing an amino of 200 thousand, sometimes you’ll have to face uncomfortable situations. As the first line of defense between members and potentially hazardous content, it’s more uncomfortable that rather than confronting and discussing Soul’s point, it was instead Soul’s fault for pointing out the obvious.

From what I’ve gathered, that portion of the conversation was irrelevant anyway due to the decision to move past that, though the issues still remained. There were LT members who openly held a grudge and this problem was never properly addressed and left alone to stew. In Soul’s chat, we only get to see one side of this problem. As someone who has witnessed Lionclan’s harassment some time ago, I’m more concerned about the mentions of Andro’s offensive comments over what was said in Soul’s chat as well at the discussion where these not very anon users pressured Andro for screenshots. Soul said nothing in text that could even partially be taken in the context of an attack on Andro. He vented his concerns and the reactions of those in the chat are not and never have been his responsibility. It disgusts me that this was labelled at an assault on Andro when the real “insults” (if you really want to call them that) were made by those who were speaking to him. I’ve never spoken to or really agreed with Soul, but these conversations seem much more like a real guy trying to seek comfort from those close to him. And this VC where he spewed insults sounds a bit far fetched considering not once has Soul actively attacked users in text. I’m sorry but the current LT do NOT have a good track record with honesty and I cannot take that at face value considering this. How do the LT know about this VC? Did they develop telepathy and suddenly know that Soul “attacked” Andro without the knowledge? Even if a member of that vc gave this information to the LT, are you telling me you took this at face value and called it a day?

The real problem with the screenshots comes from the invasion of privacy of those involved? Sure you censored the names (you missed Fen at one point btw), but occasionally you also missed the users speaking to each other. It’s almost too easy to figure out the chat participants based on the mentions of their names alone! The LT publicly posted a notice giving the community the names of the users who were accused of  “attacking” Andro. Are you serious! Flashback to Lionclan when Artclan was publicly outed as the clan in the center of the Lionclan drama. At least one of the current leadership (not name dropping) saw the aftermath of that decision and how innocent members of Artclan suffered slander and hatred based on that decision. While no one worth mentioning would go after those users on an argument that clearly favors Soul, this only further highlights the LT’s inadequacy in dealing with this situation. Are you serious? How many times do we need to say that your words carry weight! If you’re going to censor those screens at all, be sure to do so thoroughly. Especially when some of these screens are private conversations between users and Soul! Did you ask for permission before posting them? I doubt it judging by the conversations of those involved in the comments section of this aftermath.

So what’s the tally now? Inadequate and one sided information, invasion of privacy, public slander and a lacking of evidence. Also it was brought to our attention that some of these screenshots are months old! While I can neither confirm nor deny this, bringing back a topic of months in the past as evidence backing your reasoning is flawed in of itself.  I’m not even angry anymore, I’m just in disbelief. I’m sure we can expect to see a public, FEATURED apology from every leadership team member involved in this no matter if they’ve stepped down or not. The LT has overstepped their boundaries once more and I’m sick of seeing a half assed apology covering the issue briefly on one leader’s profile. Put it on the front page and give Soul the opportunity to step back up. What you believe was right does not and has not done right by the community. Fix it.

[ajordanart-blog]

Blog #10:Relationships with Pain

Let’s talk about relationships real quick. Chronic illness can be isolating. It is so easy to feel alone in your battles, and in many ways we do have to make a lot of efforts and growth on our own. There are many ways in which chronic illness can make relationships so much harder than they would be without it factored in, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it to build relationships and trust others. We don’t have to feel alone in our battles, and we do have several places that we can reach out to for support. No one can make the illness go away, and it is our job to make sure we find healthy ways to cope with our problems-- be it mental or physical health related. I started my journey with chronic pain feeling extremely alone. The doctors couldn’t tell me what was wrong, every sign pointed to “you’re healthy, there are no issues,” and it really felt like people were telling me it was all in my head. I wanted to talk about it, but I struggled to articulate why it was hard to get up and do the things I needed to do, why I was late all of the time, and why I didn’t know how to adjust to it yet. The labels lazy and irresponsible were starting to cling to me even though I still had an extremely strong work ethic. I just also had a severe amount of fatigue pulling me back. I was carrying around a heavy weight that continued to grow, and I did not know what to do with it, and it was taking an emotional toll. I also fed into the myth that sharing my issues and frustrations with pain would be a burden for others, so it was better left alone, which is entirely false. There are ways to communicate your frustrations that are healthy for both parties. And truthfully, part of being a good friend means being there for them. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help or asking if someone has the time to listen, especially if you’re willing to reciprocate that and show them the same kind of support whenever they need it.   Knowing your resources and knowing your support systems are so important in being able to continue to stay healthy and continue throughout your day-to-day lifestyle. I have several support systems now, but they wren’t always around in the beginning or in the ways that I needed. And I didn’t always know how to communicate how I was feeling either, which gave me more trouble with getting help or even just helping those close to me understand what exactly it was that had been going on. (It definitely didn’t help that my doctors couldn’t easily explain it to me either, so you can see why this in general was just a big mess for a while on my end.) And “support system” doesn’t have to exclusively mean people who understand or who can offer helpful advice or solid solutions. It definitely factors in sometimes, but a good support system can be found in someone who is just there to hang out, keep you company, and remind you to have fun. So here’s a general list of people who have helped and supported me in ways I didn’t fully expect going into this. Family:

Family can be an incredibly helpful resource if you’re lucky enough to have that. And honestly, for the past 3 years, family is one of the support systems that has simultaneously been the most gratifying but also one of the ones that I struggled the most with, all the way out to my extended family. I’ve had family members tell me I’m faking it or exaggerating, that I’m not trying hard enough, that my fatigue and sheer exhaustion was just laziness, telling me that everyone experiences some aches and pains sometimes and to suck it up, and it was honestly just wearing me down. I had to learn to let go of those opinions. That if this is how anyone felt about me, even if they were family, they were wrong, and it was their problem if they didn’t want to accept my limits and let me accommodate for my own health. I knew my work ethic, i knew I wasn’t lazy, and I knew no one else had the same problems that I did at my age. I cared the most about my immediate family though. Truthfully, my dad didn’t want there to be anything wrong with me, and I looked healthy, so he struggled to accept that I am in debilitating pain often, and that I need to accept my limits, be honest about them, and pace myself, instead of just blindly pushing through these barriers like how he’s apt to do. But he’s also been there to make sure I have access to doctors appointments and the general healthcare that’s been helpful in trying to find solutions to this issue, and over time he’s gotten better about listening and accepting some of the harder stuff that comes with it. (Partially thanks to my mom.)  My mom has been the BIGGEST support. She’s didn’t fully understand the problem at first either, for similar reasons to my dad: I’m young and I appear healthy, and I’m her baby, so she didn’t want anything to be wrong. But she was able to begin to accept it so much quicker because she experiences a lot of the same things that I do, but for different reasons. She’s been my advocate for so long and has helped me research issues, look for doctors, and find solutions. She’s honestly just been a great and understanding companion as well. Her issues stem from osteoarthritis, but we carry pain in similar areas. Mine are just more nerve related, and honestly, it’s nice to have someone who on any scale just kind of gets it. We’re able to in a sense compare notes, talk about what helps, what doesn’t help for both of us, and take turns helping each other out on bad pain days. 

Friends:

There’s that old saying: you can’t choose your family, but you can choose your friends. And I have made many friends in my adult life who have been great, positive influences in not only how I deal with chronic illness, but also in how I treat myself. I have definitely made some draining and un-supportive “friends” along the way and have had to learn how to distance myself from them, but over time, even those friendships became learning experiences. I knew what not to look for in friends and the people who I surround myself with daily. But my best friends are the people I learn from and grow with daily and are honestly who I am most thankful for. My best friends from high school were the first to accept my health issues without pushing back. They were the first to really listen, and even if they didn’t understand, just hearing “I’m sorry dude. But these are your strengths and you’ve got this,” was so helpful. I think a majority of my friends either struggle with mental health or some form of chronic illness. Two of my more recent close friends struggle with chronic pain, one with migraines who is just as affected by weather as I am, and one who is in a similar boat with weird fluctuating symptoms, and more than a year’s worth of doctors appointments that lead to “normal” test results. And again, it is so nice to have people around and compare notes with what helps and what doesn’t help. And, I suppose sometimes misery loves company, but truthfully I think we all have used our problems as an outlet to learn the kind of patience and understanding it takes to help us all be aware of each others strengths and limitations and where we need to encourage one another or meet in the middle.

The same is true for my boyfriend. He’s been one of my best friends for the past seven years and he’s been a major help and support for me to learn how to accommodate for and manage my pain. He’s been there through all the frustration, tears, and just sheer agitation, and has met it with a tremendous amount of acceptance, patience, and understanding. Like genuinely, I am so lucky to have anyone who would even remotely be willing to offer that. I honestly never advocate for people who are struggling to seek out a significant other, because there’s a HUGE misconception that having a S/O will solve your problems. It doesn’t. But having someone in your life who knows you well, knows your strengths, and knows what you’ve been through is extremely comforting. At least in this situation, I’m including Matt as one of my supportive best friends, because, especially in regards to my health, I care way more about the friend aspect of our relationship. 

Pets:

Okay I know this sound silly, but having a pet has been one of the most helpful things in regards to dealing with my pain. I learn from my rabbit every day. She makes me step outside of myself. Taking care of her and having her company is just so therapeutic. It can be inconvenient at times. Like, cleaning out her litter box can be an sever struggle when I’m flaring up pretty bad, same with refilling her hay box and doing any kind of bigger work, but it’s not anything that’s not worth sacrificing for her, and I can usually manage. She doesn’t offer any advice for my health issues, and she can’t technically listen to or understand my problems, but sometimes we don’t need complex solutions or understanding to feel better. Sometimes we just need company.

Online Communities:

If you don’t have anyone else, online communities can be a HUGE help in connecting with others. Especially others like yourself. One of the biggest helpful tools I’ve stumbled across is a Facebook Group. It’s is a smaller group of people all over the globe who each deal with various chronic illnesses who also love fashion and self-expression. It’s an open forum to ask questions, to make self expression posts, to vent, to encourage each other, and to get help with some of the harder issues, because chances are, someone in the group has had a similar struggle. I recently had to ask about barometric pressure changes and if the affect anyone else, and how to deal with the weather as it comes, because it’s something I personally still struggle with, and some of the solutions and affirmations that came from asking truly helped. 

(Name and profile pic is blocked out for the privacy of the user.) Yourself:

You are your biggest support system. If all else fails, and trust me, I’ve been there, you have to learn how to rely on yourself.  If all we do is tear ourselves down, we have no way of helping ourselves back up. We need to make sure that daily we are making a point to build ourself up long-term so that we have a good foundation for our more difficult days. We need to make sure that we are putting in the work, time, and effort to take care of ourselves, understand ourselves, accept our problems and quirks, work on them as best as we can, and help ourselves every day. That way, when there are hard days, even when no one else is available, you have something within yourself to pull from to pick yourself back up. We can either be our own worst enemy or our best friend. That’s something that, regardless of any of these other relationships and resources, we are in control of and we can always improve on.  Overall: Seek out relationships that are healthy. Engage within them as healthily as you can! But most importantly, seek out a good relationship with yourself. Support systems often feel like everything, so it’s important that we invest in them whenever we can! Seeking out support systems is one of the many ways we can encourage ourselves to stay resilient!

[toumakibangs]

This is my family: I found it all on my own. [Part V. Christmas]

SERVICE NOTE: Here we are with the last prompts of the TouMaki Month! I’m so very sorry for the delay, but I went long with writing because of work issues and after that I’ve been without internet for a while (still am, technically)! If you’re reading this, it means that he last fics have been queued and they’re being uploaded as we speak: a post every two hours, from 3pm to 5am, CEST time. My advice is to check the blog if you don’t want to miss any, because if you’re going to browse the tags (‘toumaki month 2018’ and ‘toumaki’), Tumblr will only show you three posts per blog.

Anyway, at 7am CEST time we’ll upload a recap post featuring ALL the entries to the Month, so you can browse them more easily (I’m also saving the final Goodbyes and Thank You-s for then).

My apologies again for the wobbly schedule and I hope you’ll enjoy these last fireworks!

Prompt: “Quiet! They can hear us”

Jules’ Notes: The long-awaited conclusion of our multichaptered SingleDads!AU! :D

The package that Makishima is holding hits the doorframe with a thud and Toudou hisses.

- Quiet! They can hear us!

- They could hear us just fine even an hour ago, but I didn’t see you getting so worked up and worried over that, earlier.

- That’s a lie and you know it!

- I had to press a pillow into your face to muffle the noise.

- It was just. One. Time. Besides, this is different: I would have never wanted to get interrupted by either of our toddlers, but them hearing us during this? It’s going to ruin their Christmas, and I cannot allow it.

Makishima regards him with high eyebrows and a newly found respect.

- Neither can I. Which is why I was trying to be as silent as possible. But evidently I was not silent enough.

- Let me help. They called me Sleeping Beauty in high-school because I could move in perfect silence, especially while dealing with bicycles.

- I asked Arakita and he said they all called you Forest Ninja behind your back.

Toudou loses his composure.

- That’s so lame and absolutely not true!

- Shut up!!! They will hear us!

Toudou slaps his hand over his mouth and lets Makishima take the lead.

It’s Christmas night, Makishima invited Toudou and his child over to celebrate the holiday the Western way and right now they’re leaving tiny, wrapped-up bikes (complete with helmets and training wheels) under the tree for Sakamichi and Sangaku to find, come morning.

They’re also easing their way into a relationship that looks more and more promising as days go by. It’s not the first night they spend together, but it’s the first time they do it with the kids in the house. Said kids are currently sleeping in Sakamichi’s bed (large enough for the two of them), although not out of their own volition: they’ve tried to stay up late to meet Santa, offer him warm milk and biscuits and ask him how he manages to bring presents to all the good children of the world in one night, but sleep won them over a little before 11pm. The parents tucked them in and were planning on setting up the morning scene before retiring into the privacy of Makishima’s bedroom themselves, but someone had to drink the milk and eat the cookies, and the couch was very comfortable, and they had not indulged in some little display of affection for the whole day – so one thing led to another and it wasn’t until late into the night that they got up and retrieved the presents.

The bikes were Toudou’s idea, one that Makishima agreed with wholeheartedly: there were biking circuits at the parks they attended and paths easily accessible in the mountains that the boys would have loved to ride. Engaging in some kind of sport would have done both Sakamichi and Sangaku good, and they had been talking endlessly about bikes since the time they had crossed a bunch of cyclist during their last trip to Hakone. Their enthusiasm for the sport had skyrocketed when they had learned that both their parents were well versed in the art of road racing, and held a special interest in climbing hills. That bit of information had been a pleasant surprise for the adults too, one that had kept them up over a beer or three in Toudou’s apartment one evening when Tadokoro’s sons had invited Sakamichi and Shunsuke for a sleepover and Sangaku was spending the night with Toudou’s sister. They had attested, on that occasion, that both of them indeed sported the leg muscles of people who cycled regularly.

When the bikes are safely nestled under the lower branches of the tree, partially hidden by the garlands and shiny baubles that he and Sakamichi picked together last year to celebrate their first Christmas as a family (but still very much visible for the attentive eyes of over-excited children who are looking for presents), Makishima stands up and offers his hand to Toudou, leading him into his bedroom. He closes the door without making a sound, and gasps softly (more out of pleasure than of surprise) at the warm body suddenly pressed against his back. He trails his fingers over the toned arms loosely draped around his waist and leans back until he only has to turn his head to press his lips on Toudou’s cheek and jaw, making him shiver.

- Hello.

Toudou finds his lips again and Makishima turns into his arms to kiss him in a more comfortable position. It passed virtually no time since they snogged each other on the couch, but the privacy of a bedroom awakens even the most dormant libido and it’s not long since both of them feel the need of make things horizontal and take them onto a mattress. It’s new, this kind of longing: though a late bloomer, Makishima has always been familiar with sexual urges and the craving of an intimate touch, but while in his early twenties, also thanks to an alternate lifestyle and work environment, he’d given in to all of them and indulged in lots of sex, casual and not, now it’s different.  He’s not changed in the sense that he’s lost interest in sex, but he’d had other priorities, lately, and found another kind of balance that was too precious to disrupt with flings and too demanding to leave him time for a relationship. But Toudou fitted in that balance because he had stemmed from it, falling into Makishima’s lap when he least expected it, when he’d given up on this side of his life – maybe not for good, but certainly for the time being. Toudou makes his stomach clench and his hands itch, he awakens latent cravings and sates them with an expert touch and no rush. Being with Toudou is comfortable in the way relationships while being a single gay parent never are. Their schedules don’t always match, but they do very often. They both understand when the other has to call off their planned date because his child has an upset stomach, or because the day was just too long. They don’t roll their eyes when the other ends up talking about his kid for most of the time, because they know what it feels like, needing to vent, needing a friendly ear, needing someone that knows what it’s like. Being with Toudou when it’s just the two of them behind closed doors, toddlers safely forgotten for a couple of hours, is satisfying in all the ways that count – fulfilling, even when their evenings don’t end in an orgasm. They haven’t been able to really sleep together many times, so far: there are just so many nights off a single parent can take, but Makishima doesn’t feel sappy to admit they’ve been magical. And magical is this one too, and not only because it’s Christmas.

Makishima tugs him down on the bed and kisses back, soft and pliant, and Toudou rediscovers what it means caring for someone that is not his son. Because Makishima, in a totally different way from Sangaku, rekindles his instinct to protect and care for someone else. For an adult, for an equal, for an independent human being that doesn’t really need a shelter, but you want to provide for anyway – because everyone needs a little pampering every now and then and, above all, because it makes you happy. And it makes Toudou happy indeed, to be wanted like this, to be craved for the man he is. Makishima’s hands on his body are a blessed reminder that he’s still made of flesh and blood, and that he has yet to stop giving on such department. The time they spend together with or without their sons, the laughs they share, the intimacy – he feels like a perpetually starving man whom only these things can sate. Makishima quenches his thirst and eases his mind, holds him up when he feels wobbly and shows him some colour when he feels blue. Makishima reminds him every day that being a single parent doesn’t mean being single in every sense of the word, not to mention alone. Makishima sends sparks through his body and milks it dry like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and it probably is, now that he thinks about it. And it can be even if they both are responsible for two young children with a troubled history. He sleeps better, when he does so with Makishima. He wakes up much more rested, after passing an evening or a couple of hours alone together – and it’s such an addicting sensation that he’s not ashamed to admit he’s been doing everything in his powers to keep feeling it. To make sure nights like this one can be more than a sweet exception.

They didn’t go all the way back in the living room: too risky, and maybe too soon, but they can now – and although they take their sweet time, it almost feels like release comes too soon. It always does, in their opinion. And tonight, more than ever, when they lay back after tidying themselves up (at least one positive thing about having toddlers around is that you’re never out of tissues or wet wipes), half-clothed and drowsy, they feel the bulky and quite cumbersome presence of the elephant in the room. Toudou addresses it and his doubts, but he knows he’s speaking for both of them and maybe, just maybe, he hopes that the night, on virtue of being Christmas and, therefore, holding a magic of its own, will bring the best answers.

- What do we do, now?

Makishima curls up on his left side to mirror Toudou’s stance and look at him.

- About what?

- This. Us.

Makishima sighs and rubs his face and eyes. Toudou instinctively brings up a hand to rub his arm and caress his head. Makishima holds onto it.

- I don’t know, honestly.

- Come here, please.

Makishima rolls into his embrace, but Toudou feels like he’s the one being held and supported – that’s the kind of power Makishima has on him.

- I… I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Maki-chan.

Makishima tenses and Toudou makes a shushing, soothing sound not very different from the ones he uses with Sangaku, when he fusses.

- …d-do you want to quit?

Toudou hugs him tighter.

- No. Quite the contrary, actually. Do you want to quit, now?

Makishima shakes his head, and pulls him closer.

- Not at all. Quite the contrary, if I could have it my way.

They sigh in unison, minds reeling but tension slightly dissipated now that they have implicitly stated they’re on the same page about their feelings for each other.

- What do we do, then?

Makishima kisses him, and although it doesn’t solve the issue it’s still a welcome, not to mention of fundamental importance in order to put things into perspective, interlude.

- Do you think we should tell the kids?

Toudou sighs.

- They will start asking questions, if we keep this up. Better yet, I feel that if we decide we’re being more open about this and more or less officialising it, they should know the truth.

Makishima nods.

- To be honest, I’m more worried about the reaction of all the other people who might hear about this, and how Sakamichi might respond to that.

Toudou kisses his forehead.

- I know what you mean. But it’s not like we don’t have a trusted net of friends and relatives who might have our backs and, by extension, our kids’. I can’t promise everything will always go smoothly, but I’m positive that our children will always have a safe circle of people they can rely on, and they will always know how much they’re loved.

- I really don’t want to disrupt Sakamichi’s life, right now. Or put my selfish needs before his well-being.

Toudou swallows. He’s asked himself the same thing, over and over, in the past weeks: is it being selfish, on a parent’s part, to think about their own chances at happiness?

- I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if my actions directly caused Sangaku harm or distress, after everything he’s been through and after everything we’ve accomplished together.

- Exactly.

- …but I also think that kids can only benefit from their parents’ happiness. I mean… I’m better, when I’m with you. I feel better, afterwards. More energetic, more relaxed. And Sangaku notices. Because I’m better with him too. I certainly smile more.

Makishima squeezes him in an emotional display of agreement.

- If we tell the children and act transparent, spending so much time at each other’s places wouldn’t be so weird or unusual anymore.

- Indeed, it wouldn’t. Although I believe I will have to hold onto my and Manami’s apartment quite tightly: he has developed a routine and it’s given him a stability I wouldn’t have hoped for. He has improved a lot, lately.

- Me too: Sakamichi has got used to his house and his room – he likes it a lot, here, has a sense of belonging. I can’t take that away from him. Certainly not now.

They sigh again, although it has a more melancholic sound to it, now. This time, it’s Toudou who leans in for a kiss.

- It’s not ideal, but I fear it’s the best we can hope for, at the moment.

Makishima agrees and kisses back.

- We’ll make do, for now.

*

They are woken up by the shrill cries of over-excited children who just found out Santa did indeed leave something for them under the tree – and of course they have to tell their parents first, even if it means barging into Makishima’s bedroom and climbing both on the bed and on top of their respective fathers to jump on their legs until they’re awake. Luckily, they pulled apart during the night, and Sakamichi and Sangaku didn’t catch them in compromising positions.

They get pulled into the living room as soon as they’re awake enough to keep their eyes open for more than three seconds, and once in charge of screaming toddlers running around the sofa and the tree in anticipation, they do indeed forget everything about sleep.

The bikes elicit the intended reaction, and they spend a good part of the early morning mounting all the pieces, taking pictures and checking the weather to promise the children that yes, if they behave and agree on dressing appropriately they can go in the courtyard and try their new bolides after breakfast. Which is a loud and messy affair. But an extremely joyful one, as well.

They manage to have a couple of hours of untainted fun in the open before it starts snowing again, and although they allow the kids to play a little among the snowflakes, it’s soon clear that they’d better get back inside. There’s a little protesting, but the prospect of more presents to open and of a second breakfast made of pancakes is enough to bribe the kids into agreeing.

Sangaku and Sakamichi drew each other Christmas cards at kindergarten, and obviously prepared more elaborate ones for their fathers, full of childish love and devotion and, in Sakamichi’s case, glitter. Toudou and Makishima pretend they don’t see each other’s wet eyes as they thank their kids profusely and coddle them shamelessly.

Toudou has gifted Sakamichi a Love!Hime set of bike decorations and hat, while Makishima got Sangaku a baby-blue backpack for their excursion with tiny angel wings sprouting from the sides. As the children talk excitedly about their new possessions and enjoy the holiday, Toudou touches Makishima’s arm to get his attention.

- Actually, I have something for you too.

It’s a golden necklace that Makishima has mentioned during one of their dates. It’s at the same time perfect and absurd, because Makishima got Toudou a similar one that he, too, noticed during the same date. The instinct is to jump each other’s bones right there right now, but they can’t in front of the kids and settle for helping each other putting on their respective necklaces, although with a little more touching than necessary, maybe.

Then the kids stop playing to look at them, and ask about the presents they’ve just exchanged, because it’s weird for adults to do that, isn’t it?

It takes them just a quick glance to understand and silently agree that yes, this is it, because the atmosphere is perfect, they have the best excuse to introduce the matter and it’s Christmas, which kind of means nothing can go wrong today - therefore this is not only the right moment, but the one and only too. Toudou swallows and clears his throat.

- Sangaku, Sakamichi… – he starts, and he exchanges a pregnant look with Makishima, who smiles at him, takes his hand and nods, giving him courage. The kids look at them expectantly. Toudou takes a deep breath, but Makishima senses his uneasiness and comes to his rescue.

 - Boys, there is something we’d like to tell you.

[fatigued-one]

Way Back When (& My Current Conundrum)

Since I’m new to tumblr, I thought I’d share about myself and why I’m starting this blog for those that are interested. I’m nervous about sharing my story because I haven’t before (partially because I think people will think I’m lying for some reason). I had a longer version, but I figured no one would really care to read that long about my boring life and thoughts. A lot of the details are things that I haven’t discussed with anyone (except perhaps my husband). But, it’s nice to have the option of anonymity (what a weird spelling) that the internet provides. It’s more written for my benefit than anything. I typically don’t like to complain or share my feelings because I feel like I’m just being irritating, rather than actually having valid concerns. So...I feel like I’m really whiny and annoying throughout this post. If you do happen to want to read it though, it’s behind the “keep reading” link.

I’m mainly starting this blog to (hopefully) help me process feelings and cope with issues, similar to a journal. But since this is online, perhaps there will be others to provide me with support and ideas (or even that there’s someone who has been through or is going through something similar to me to be buddies with). I’m also hoping to be able to provide similar support to others. I really enjoy listening when people need a place to vent confidentially, and I’m happy to give advice when asked. I’ll try to be on messenger as much as possible, but with the fatigue issues I have (more detail below), I may not always be able to respond immediately. I’m also planning to keep the ask channel open.

To summarize what I want advice on if you don’t want to read my story: As it has become more evident that my doctors are about out of options to lessen the fatigue, I have become increasingly worried about my weight and wanting to be thin. I feel like there’s not much I can do to improve myself because of the health issues, but I don’t want to be obese again. I feel like there’s not a way to eat right and there’s not a way to increase my activity, so I am just forced to fail and be unhealthy. I feel so trapped in and betrayed by my body. I have mixed emotions about being in the mindset of wanting to start dieting again because I know my husband hates it when I feel this way about my body and gets concerned about my health. But, I’m kind of excited at the idea of being in control of my weight again (which I feel like I shouldn’t be since my husband hates it). I go more into detail about how my mindset has changed in the past few weeks compared with the past 2 years or more at the end of the long story, but it feels like I’ve started to be obsessed with my weight more quickly than the last time.

I don’t want to be obese again, and I really want to take control of my weight like I was when I was losing so much before. I feel like I’m so unhealthy being this fat. But if I let myself start limiting things again, I’m not sure I’ll know when I’m restricting myself enough, and I still don’t want to end up having a feeding tube for my stomach condition. I don’t know how to make my weight acceptable while keeping my husband happy/not concerned, but I don’t want to remain at such an unhealthy weight or as disgustingly fat as I am currently. HELP!

If anyone has any advice or support related to these issues, I’d appreciate it. 

I debated whether to include my current weight and pant size, but I’m pretty ashamed (at least if it’s still the same as it was at the doctor’s office last month) of it after having made so much progress getting down to 120 pounds, even though it is less than my heaviest weight. I’m worried about what people will think about me failing as badly as I have, when I probably should have kept trying to lose weight. 

I also thought about including pictures, but I figured noone would want to see that grossness. If you are interested, please let me know, and I’ll consider posting. I’m so nervous and anxious about sharing how I look(ed), even at my lowest weight, especially considering how so many of the other people in this community look. When I repeatedly see my arms are fatter/bigger/thicker than some people’s legs now (and I really don’t think that’s an exaggeration), it’s hard for me to not be apprehensive about sharing how my body looks/looked. I also feel like if I say I was whatever weight in a photo that I’ll get comments about me lying because I always feel like I look way heavier than other people do at the same weight (though I have had people in real life tell me they think I’m lying about my weight because I look significantly lighter than what I say I weigh...I don’t believe them though).

So, I’ve basically been self-conscious about my weight for as long as I can remember. For the most part, I thought my views about my weight were normal for someone my age. My mom would tell me (and still does sometimes) to suck in my gut and stand up straighter (I assume to hide that I was as fat as I was) especially when I was taking a picture. Starting in middle school, if not earlier, she started to tell me to cut back on snacks and desserts, eventually not letting me have seconds on anything even if I was still hungry. I just figured it was normal for a parent to help keep their child from being too unhealthy when they were already that fat. I had a condescending twin brother, who always picked on me, especially for being so heavy. Mom didn’t ever seem to care about his weight unless he lost some, and more focused on me (the fatter twin) and making sure I was aware that she knew I was overweight. I was picked on for a lot of different things in school, since I was geeky and weird on top of how heavy I was. There were even kids that thought I was/asked me if I was pregnant because of my huge belly making it look that way. I wasn’t too bothered by my weight until I was too big to buy a prom dress in the junior section. Mom was way more incessant about me not gaining weight before prom than usual, as she wanted to make sure I remembered being fatter would make my dress not fit. It fit ok at the prom, but my back fat puffed out over the top of it (so gross). This made me start to be so much more worried about my weight and size.

Although I was disappointed with my size, I just accepted it as my destiny to be fat at the time rather than feeling like I could do something to change it, likely cause my parents determined what and when I ate for the majority of my meals at that time. I didn’t have enough self control to stop myself from eating anything (even things I knew were terrible for me), and I always ate the entirety of whatever started eating. I felt hungry all the time, and I didn’t like the feeling of my stomach being empty at that time. I prayed that I would be able to finally motivate myself to lose weight so I could be healthy.

I started trying to eat healthier in college, after my weight ballooned to 190 pounds. I was a tight US size 16, and so unhappy with my appearance. For a while, my weight stayed fairly stable at 190, because I guess I wasn’t eating as healthy as I thought. I started to become obsessed with the size of my potions. I would meticulously compare what I ate with other people to make sure that my food was “healthier” and I wasn’t eating more than them. After one of my best friends died at the end of junior year (I think I probably should have been in a size 12 or 14, but thought my size 16′s still fit because my body looked exactly the same to me), I lost the motivation to eat because of how much grief I had. I was down to a size 8 at by start of senior year. I didn’t think my body looked much different than it had at size 16, but I did occasionally get asked if I’d lost weight for some reason I didn’t understand. At my annual checkup, my doctor thought it was great I was losing weight and recommended I continue with what I was doing.

After college, I moved back in with my parents’ house for a while. At first, I gave up some of the control over what I was eating, but I started freaking out as I felt my pants getting tighter and tighter. I became obsessed with controlling what I was eating and with how fat I was. I started to skip meals to account for the additional calories I obviously didn’t need to be eating at dinner. I started completely eliminating “unhealthy” foods from my diet. My mom started to suggest that I should stop eating snacks and desserts again, and started to ask questions about if I had gained weight or if I was eating more. I pinched at my fat in the mirror to remind myself of how gross it was. I started combing the internet to find tips on how to lose weight and compared myself with celebrities to remind myself of what my body could look like if I managed to lose some weight.

Once I got a full time job, I moved out on my own again and became more particular about what I ate and obsessed with losing weight. I finally had access to a scale, and started weighing myself every day. I was so anxious that I’d gain even a tenth of a pound. I started to obsessively count calories, initially allowing myself 1200 per day (which I feel like is a ton). The more under my limit I was, the happier I was with how I ate. I was anxious every time I thought I’d gone over my calorie limit. I kept progressively lowering the number of daily calories I could eat, thinking that I was being too generous with my limit. I started competing with myself to eat less calories than the day before, thinking I’d failed if I ate more (after all, I was on a diet because I was hideously fat, so the goal was to eat less calories so I could lose weight). Eventually, I was eating about 600 calories a day and still berating myself for “overeating” by so much. Mostly I was just eating fruits and vegetables, because I had eliminated so many “bad” foods from my diet. I spend more time poking and pinching at my fat in the mirror, and I would even grab at my fat while lying in bed or alone watching TV.

I never actually set a goal weight for myself when I was initially losing weight. My goal was just to not be fat any more. I kept telling myself that I’d look better if I lost 20 pounds. I’m not sure where the 20 pounds came from, but that was always the amount I’d say I wanted to lose. My boyfriend became increasingly concerned that I wanted to lose “so much” weight, but I saw no reason for him to be worried. I was obviously still overweight, and I thought I was just eating healthier. He remained very supportive of how amazing he thought I was, but in my head, I know that he wouldn’t want to see me wearing less clothes or to touch me because I was so fat and disgusting. I used that as motivation to keep working towards being thin, but didn’t want to tell him.

I went for a routine check at the doctor and was put on medication for hypothyroid, which made me ravenous. I started to eat huge meals and snacks (which were probably no larger than what most people consider normal but I felt like I was overeating massively) because I couldn’t control myself with the new hunger. I was terrified I was going to become morbidly obese because I had lost the ability to stick to a simple diet plan. Then, I started to have severe stomach pain and nausea every time I ate. I ate less and less food, but it continued. I eventually felt guilty for trying to eat or drink anything, because I was having the pain even from one bite of a fruit or vegetable or a single sip of water. Obviously my body was punishing me for being so fat and overeating all the time. By the time I was diagnosed and treatment was figured out, I had gotten to 120 pounds and a US size 2 (almost a 0). It was a condition that makes my stomach digest foods more slowly than is typical. The condition medically requires me to eat a low fat and low fiber diet, eliminating a lot of fruits and veggies, as well as many other foods that I had already stopped eating, from the foods I am allowed to eat from a medical perspective. For the most part, I can digest liquids without issues, but it typically limits the amount of food that someone is able to ingest at one time (which made me super excited to think that my body basically would act as a calorie counter for me). I still thought I was not much smaller, and was compelled to keep losing weight. I was fearful of trying to eat because I knew my body would punish me for it, obviously it didn’t need me to eat much (or even every day) or it wouldn’t hurt when I tried to. I was terrified of eating more than about 5 bites, sometimes as few as 2, because I was certain I would gain weight from being such a pig. 

Eventually, my boyfriend convinced (or tricked...I’m not sure) me into letting him control what I ate and how big I was so that I would avoid needing a feeding tube. He wouldn’t let me see the scale even, and I was up to 140 pounds and a size 6 by the finally did. I couldn’t stand it because of how huge I was or how quickly I pudged out, but he continued to force me to eat (what I thought) were massive size meals and wouldn’t allow my to try to lose more. He kept affirming me and making me complement myself until I was mostly ok with not trying to lose weight, even though I still needed to lose some weight.

A couple years later, I started having pain everywhere in my body for what seemed to be no particular reason. It felt like I had done a heavy workout the day before in every area of my body, even though I hadn’t been doing anything particularly strenuous the day before. I struggled to keep my thoughts regarding my weight out of my head still, but I started telling myself that it was my body’s way of punishing me and trying to make me feel guilty for being fat or not trying to take care of it well enough for something. I was able to convince myself that my husband (previously boyfriend) was right about this not making sense. After months of negative test results, this was finally diagnosed as Fibromyalgia.

Once the pain management was figured out, I began to have issues with severe fatigue that would not let up. The fatigue has continually gotten worse, though now seems to be either progressing very slowly or is stable. This has now been diagnosed as chronic fatigue syndrome, which causes me difficulty doing pretty much everything due to lack of energy. I spend the vast majority of my time on a couch with a recliner built in or lying down, mostly watching TV and intermittently using a laptop because I get so exhausted trying to do more that I crash and have sleep the rest of the day.  My doctors have unsuccessfully tried so many different treatments, and are basically out of options. So, I’m not expecting the fatigue to lessen anytime soon. Between worrying about my body being in constant pain and being so inactive, I have gained quite a bit of weight. Exercising, even things like yoga that are low key, is essentially out of the question to do regularly since doing so for 5-10 minutes basically wipes me out for the rest of the day. Most days, I’m not able to prepare food more than things like heating up leftovers or pouring milk on cereal, so making more healthy things, like smoothies, isn’t possible either a lot of the time. I feel like I’m so much fatter than I was when I was this weight before because of being inactive. I’ve lost so much of my muscle, so I feel like just a lazy blob. It’s to the point where trying to stand for more than a couple minutes starts to cause my body to shake, as if is doing some great feat of strength, or to burn like I’ve just done some intense workout. (I try not to be convinced of this being from how massive my weight is, but it’s hard not to think that.) I haven’t pulled out pictures from the last time I was this heavy, but I’m sure I looked less fat since I was actually at least somewhat active (and would have had more muscle). It’s so frustrating to have so little control of how my body works.

Current Thoughts, Feelings, and Concerns

I know that what I was doing in regards to my eating before, probably wasn’t what most people would consider “normal”, but I’m not really sure it qualifies as an eating disorder either, as I never felt like I limited my food enough or lost too much weight for it to be considered as such. If I read a story someone else wrote where they basically the same things I did, I might feel differently. But as is, I never felt like my eating was that strange, other than agreeing that I...might...have had a warped view of my eating right after my stomach issues were diagnosed. I was never underweight so I don’t really feel like I was unhealthy regarding my views on food when I was losing weight.

My obsession with my weight and desire to be thin has been returning with a vengeance lately. I won’t go into all the boring details about why I think so though, but I’ll share a bit about what I’m going through now. My weight has been fairly stable (within a couple pounds) over the past year or so, I have been feeling more and more like I’m getting fatter with each meal, even though I haven’t changed how I’ve been eating. I hate having a full stomach again, whereas that hasn’t bothered me for several months unless my stomach condition started to flare up. It feels almost like my body is revolting against me trying to put food in, as it has started to send me full stomach signals before I start eating a lot of the time. I’m feeling so guilty if I finish eating anything, even for foods like a cup of yogurt. I feel like my weight is so unhealthy. 

I hate that I’ve gotten so huge and overweight again, but I feel like there’s not much I can do to improve myself because of my health issues. I feel so helpless and trapped in my body. While typing this up, I kept thinking that the things I was doing to lose weight before should sound ridiculous, but I also was wishing that I was still doing them or that I had started them again.

Most of what I eat is so junky, because it takes so much less energy to prepare and there are so many healthy things I can’t eat because of my stomach issues. I know I need to prevent myself from eating certain types of foods again, but I feel like I shouldn’t want to. A couple days ago I realized that I’m actually looking at the calories for pretty much every food I eat from a package. I haven’t started tracking them or trying to limit them, but I feel like that might not be too far away. I’m starting to push meals later, waiting for my hunger to pass. I’m terrified that the inactivity is going to make my weight balloon again.

I had been checking my body in the mirror about once or twice a week for the past year or two as just an awareness check of how I look, but now I’m noticing that it’s been once or twice a day that I can’t resist the urge to critique how fat I am and analyze how I could look better. I’ve become more particular about what I can wear again when I actually manage to leave the house, since it’s become so much more evident that my fat is bulging through my clothes. I’ve started secretly spending as much time as I can (hours a day) at so many images online and on TV of people who are thin (probably thinner than my husband would ever want me to be), and combing each one to see how my huge body compares.  

My husband is aware of my eating issues, so he tends to look out for signs that I am skipping meals, keeping track of my weight, avoiding foods, checking calories, and so forth. So it’s not really an option to fast. I haven’t started weighing or measuring myself again yet, but I’m struggling to not start keeping track of my size. That is one thing my husband watches to see if I’m doing. He tries to keep me from using the scale because he knows how knowing my weight tends to make me feel fatter than I already do and how often I weighed myself when I was making myself lose weight. He still doesn’t think I need to lose weight, but I’m pretty sure I’m medically overweight by a few pounds at this point. I think he might suspect something is up with my eating again because he knows me so well. 

Thank you so much for reading my story. If you’ve got any advice, suggestions, resources, encouragement, etc., please share. I’d appreciate some support from others as I try to cope with my health issues vs. my weight.